


A Cut to the Chase

by lumassen



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medical, M/M, Magic Trio (Hetalia), Uralic Trio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26301535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumassen/pseuds/lumassen
Summary: All Sigurd wanted was a haircut, but like many things in his life it could never just be as simple as that. After a string of unfortunate events, Sigurd ends up leaving the salon that day with a surprise undercut - not really what he planned. But as the weeks pass, Sigurd juggles his paramedic training with visits to the salon for free maintenance haircuts that a very apologetic Timo insisted he receive, and starts to warm to his hairdresser.
Relationships: Belarus & Norway (Hetalia), Estonia & Finland & Hungary (Hetalia), Finland/Norway (Hetalia)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter One

**Chapter One - Bicycle**

Sigurd was a little early for his appointment as he came to a stop on the pavement outside the salon. He hoped that there might have been a bike rack or at least a lamppost nearby for him to secure his bicycle to, but now in the absence of both of those things he was regretting not taking the bus. 

The traffic rumbled by on the main road as he swung his leg over the bike and leant it against the wall beneath the window of the salon. Looking at his reflection in the window as he took his helmet off and set it down in the bike basket, Sigurd fluffed up his hair where it had been flattened by his helmet and wondered why he’d put off getting a haircut for so long. His blonde curls were just starting to fall about his shoulders, and so a couple days ago when he found himself debating buying a pack of hair ties to keep it out of his face while browsing the shampoo aisle in the supermarket did he decide that it was time for a trim. 

Squinting to peer past his reflection and into the salon, Sigurd noticed that it didn’t look busy and hoped that they wouldn’t mind that he was a little early. Leaving his bike propped up underneath the window, he pushed the door open and entered the salon. He stood in the doorway and smiled a little shyly as the two hairdressers who had been chatting in the middle of the shop turned to greet him. 

“Hi, good afternoon! Do you have an appointment or are you a walk in?” 

Crossing the floor to stand behind the front desk, a tall woman with kind eyes and wavy brown hair piled high on top of her head in a messy bun smiled at Sigurd as she picked up the appointments ledger. 

“Yeah, I have an appointment, but I’m a bit early and, uh,” he said, casting his gaze between her and the other hairdresser, a man dressed simply in all black with neatly styled blonde hair who had stopped to lean on the handle of the broom he was using to sweep trimmings up from the wooden floor.

“I wondered if you know if there was anywhere that I could secure my bike?” 

Looking genuinely puzzled by the question, the blonde straightened up and put the broom to one side as he stepped around the pile of swept up hair. He blinked at Sigurd for a moment before shaking his head, an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry, I can’t say that I do,” he said, casting a quick glance at the woman as though hoping for some input, but she just shrugged. He chewed on his lip for a moment in thought until a smile returned to his face,

“You could leave it propped up outside below the window where we can see it, and Liz’ll keep an eye on it for you, won’t you?” he suggested, then beamed at Sigurd when she nodded and plonked herself down on the couch beside the window and grabbed a magazine from the pile on the little side table. 

Though not fully comfortable with the idea, Liz had a clear view of the window and the street outside from where she was sitting, and it wasn’t as if Sigurd had any other choice. 

“I can’t say we’ve ever had anyone turn up for an appointment on a bike before!” the blonde laughed, but there was no tone of judgement to his voice as he turned a little on the spot and motioned for Sigurd to follow him. 

“You must be my 3:30 appointment, I’m Timo by the way, I’ll be your hairdresser.” 

Timo stopped beside a leather salon chair in front of an illuminated mirror.

“Name’s Sigurd.” 

Sigurd introduced himself with a curt nod and small smile before settling down in the chair. He then watched Timo through the mirror as he busied himself with gathering a clean gown that he shook out and draped around him in a smooth motion. His hands were warm against the back of his neck as he fastened it, and now that he was close enough to Timo, Sigurd could smell his cologne. 

The pink of his tongue poked out and his hair fell across his face for a moment as he turned his attention to the black tool pouch that sat across his hips containing various combs and scissors and he hummed to himself as he selected the ones he wanted. Liz was still sitting on the couch beside the window, and every now and again Sigurd could hear her flip the page of the magazine she was reading. 

“So, what are you going for today?”

With a jerk of his head, Timo flipped his hair out of his eyes and looked at Sigurd through the mirror and he took his attention away from Liz to make eye contact with him.

“Well, I was just thinking of taking some length off and tidying the back and sides up a little.” Sigurd said with a slight shrug. He didn’t really know _what_ he wanted to do with his hair. He’d always worn it relatively long and in the same style for as far as he could remember as it suited him and was easy to maintain.

Taking his comb, Timo nodded and ran it a couple of times through the back of his hair.

“Seems a shame to cut it off, you have such a nice natural curl,” Timo mumbled as he played around with Sigurd’s side part, flipping it to a centre part and teasing at his roots a little and cocked his head to the side in musing before combing it back to the side again,

“But if you want to go in for the chop I could take it to here for you?” 

Taking the ends of Sigurd’s hair between his fingers, Timo curled it inwards and tucked it just under his chin then met his gaze in the mirror. 

Sigurd looked at himself for a moment, trying to picture how his hair would look at that length. 

“I was thinking a little shorter.” he said after a few moments, and Timo nodded again and let his hair drop as he took his hands away.

“Okay, I’ll take it up to just above your jawline and tidy up the split ends and add some layers. How does that sound?” 

Timo’s smile was warm through the mirror, and it grew even wider when Sigurd nodded in agreement. 

Once they’d agreed on a hairstyle, Timo asked Sigurd to stand up and follow him over to the sinks at the back of the shop. He chatted away while he draped a towel across his shoulders and gently eased him back so that his neck was resting against the cold porcelain of the sink and offered him tea, coffee, or a glass of water, all of which Sigurd politely refused. An overplayed pop song came quietly from the radio in the background, and while the warm water ran over his scalp and Timo worked the shampoo through his hair, Sigurd listened to the voices of Liz and a client that had walked in to book an appointment drifted through the shop.

He was a little disappointed when Timo turned the water off and squeezed out his hair as he wrapped it in another towel, and found that he was relaxing into the feeling of having his hair washed. 

“That was Abel’s sister, Manon, you know the one who runs the pet store? She’s booked in for a cut and colour next week. She’s going blonde!” 

Liz enthused as Timo led Sigurd back to the chair and rubbed the towel against his hair to dry it a little. She picked up her mug from the front desk and walked over to the couch and took a sip before she flopped back down. 

“Ooh that’ll really suit her!” Timo said as he draped the towel over his shoulder and took the comb to Sigurds hair once more, gently combing out the tangles. Now that his hair was damp and his curls weighed down Sigurd noticed just how long his hair had gotten as he looked at himself in the mirror. Timo and Liz continued to chat amongst themselves as Timo set to work, scissors snipping away, and Sigurd had just begun to zone out as he watched the first ends of his hair fall to the floor when he was addressed by them.

“So, Sigurd. What do you do, then?” Timo asked as he glanced at him quickly through the mirror before returning his attention back to his hair. Small talk when at the salon seemed to be an unwritten rule, and although Sigurd didn’t mind it and knew that it was just a thing among hairdressers to chat and gossip with their clients, he wasn’t particularly good at it. 

He found himself wishing that he wasn’t the only person in the salon so that both of their attention wasn’t on him as he whet his lips to speak.

“I’m a trainee paramedic.” Sigurd said, then watched as Timo’s eyebrows shot up like everyone’s usually did when they found out his profession. 

“Oh wow, that’s great! How long have you been in training?”

There was now a growing amount of hair circling around Timo’s feet as he continued to take strands between his fingers and confidently snip at the ends, the fronts of his black skinny jeans were now covered in pale blonde strands. 

“About 4 months, so not long at all really.”

Tino hummed in response as he concentrated on the sides of Sigurd’s hair, peering in the mirror as he held the sections in front of his ears to make sure that they were even in length.

“It must be rewarding. Do you enjoy it?” Liz asked from the couch, and Sigurd was about to turn absentmindedly to look at her, but Timo pressed a hand to his cheek lightly before he could move his head as though he’d anticipated it and mumbled for him to ‘keep still please’; his concentration not breaking. 

“Yeah I enjoy it. There’s a lot to learn,” Sigurd paused as he got distracted by a large lock of hair falling onto his shoulder as he watched it getting shorter and shorter in the mirror while Timo worked,

“But I like it. And yeah I guess you could say it’s rewarding. It’s nice to know that I can help people, I suppose.”

He caught a smile cross Timo’s face at his words and couldn’t help but feel slightly awkward. Sigurd didn’t particularly like talking about himself, and would much rather engage in small talk about the weather or if he was going on holiday this year. Luckily, Timo or Liz didn’t ask any more questions on the subject for the moment, and instead Liz returned her attention back to her magazine and sang along to the song on the radio under her breath while Timo placed the scissors into his tool pouch and reached for the electric clippers.

“How do you feel about the length? Do you want me to take any more off?” he asked, and Sigurd leant forward a little in the chair to peer at his hair in the mirror. It looked much better. As it had started to dry his curls had returned and it looked much tidier. Timo had added a couple of layers around his ears and the sides, and the back looked more tame as Sigurd turned his head to look at it.

“The length is fine, you’ve done a great job. Thank you.” 

Pleased, Sigurd sat back again and smiled at Timo through the mirror.

“Great! Well I just need to tidy up around the nape of your neck. Shall I add a slight fade?”

Timo clearly enjoyed his job and knew what he was doing, and Sigurd didn’t really care much for the back of his head as he couldn’t see it anyway, so he just shrugged, trusting his judgement.

“Sure, whatever you think would suit me. You’re the professional.”

Grinning as he plugged the clippers in, Timo fiddled with them for a moment and made sure that the guard was on properly before he placed the tips of his fingers against the back of Sigurd’s head and gently tilted it forward so that his chin was lowered toward his chest. The clippers buzzed to life and Sigurd tensed a little as the vibration tickled the back of his neck and tried not to shudder. He kept his eyes downcast and looked at his shoes and tried to stay as still as possible until Liz shrieked and leapt up from where she was sitting, startling both he and Timo.

“Hey- Shit, the bike!” she cried, and Sigurd snapped his head up, cringing inwardly as he felt the clippers shave up into his hair and looked out of the window just in time to see a red-headed boy with his hood up grab his bicycle and mount it. Ripping off the gown that was draped over him, Sigurd stood up and followed Liz out of the salon as she threw the door open, but by the time they both stumbled out onto the street his bike was long gone up the street, the thief pedalling away as fast as he could. 

*

Back in the salon chair, Sigurd slumped over and sighed into his hands as Timo and Liz bickered by the door. Not only had his bicycle just been stolen, but he now also had a large chunk of hair missing from the back of his head where Timo’s hand had slipped with the clippers. Dragging his hands over his face, Sigurd sat up and ran his fingers gingerly over the short patch of hair and felt the colour drain from his face when he realised just how short it had been shaved. 

The door slammed closed and Sigurd watched through the mirror as Timo hovered on the spot for a moment, wringing his hands in front of him before he crept across the shop to stand behind him in the chair. Timo avoided Sigurd’s gaze and instead focused his eyes on the back of his head, wincing a little as he looked at the bald patch.

“Um… Was it expensive? Your bike? I’m happy to replace it for you if Liz can’t find the thief - she’s gone out to look for him - and of course I’ll fix your hair!” Timo said hurriedly, then finally met Sigurd’s eye, his brown eyes wide and apologetic. 

“You don’t owe me anything for your haircut by the way, it’s on the house. And the next three. In fact, make that the next five. If you ever want to even come back again, that is.” 

Sigurd felt bad for projecting his anger on Timo, but his bike had been expensive and was his pride and joy. It was his own fault for not calling ahead before setting off to check if there was somewhere that he could secure it.

“Look, I’m really sorry-”

Exhaling sharply, Sigurd spun around in the chair to look at Timo properly,

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about replacing the bike and instead worry about fixing my hair.” he said and watched as Timo chewed on his lip for a moment until a sheepish half-smile crept across his lips as he reached for the clippers.

“How’d you feel about an undercut?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _whatddup, I'm Elliott, 19, and I never fuckin' learned how to write one au and stick to it._
> 
> Welcome to my first Norway POV fic, and my first chaptered NorFin au!
> 
> I'll admit I didn't spend too much time on this chapter but man was it fun to write and I'm really excited for this au :')
> 
> I hope you like it! Any feedback would be appreciated! <3
> 
> -lumassen x


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack - Australia  
> Milen - Bulgaria
> 
> Everyone else should be obvious (I hope lol)

**Chapter Two - Crusader**

The crew room was busy, with half the people in there finishing their day shift, and the other half taking over for the night shift. Light chatter that was broken occasionally by the loud muffling of a dispatch call coming over the radio filled the air, and Sigurd listened in to a conversation between two EMT’s about their weekend plans while pouring himself a watery coffee from the machine. 

He was just adding creamer and sugar and was about to wash his spoon when he felt a set of long, acrylic nails run over his buzzed hair at the back of his neck.

“Well, this is a drastic change.” Natalya said, and Sigurd caught a smirk on her face as he turned around to face her. 

Sigurd hadn’t worked a shift since the incident at the hairdressers, and so today was the first time his colleagues were seeing his new hairstyle. Timo had ended up shaving from the nape of his neck to the backs of his ears, though kept the rest of his hair long so that it fell over the clean line that drew from ear to ear. From the front, the undercut wasn’t noticeable much to Sigurd’s relief, but the more he’d gotten used to it the more he decided that he quite liked it. Though being able to feel the stiffness of the collar of his uniform against the back of his neck was a little strange at first, and he found that he needed to use significantly less shampoo. 

“What do you think?” Sigurd glanced at her as he ran the small spoon he’d used to stir his coffee under the tap and rinsed it.

“It looks great. Plus, you’d look hot if you tied your hair up in a bun like the hipsters do.” Natalya teased. She moved to stand beside Sigurd at the sink and raked her hand through his hair, pulling it up and holding it up in a tiny ponytail on the top of his head before letting it go again.

“I don’t think so.” Sigurd shut the suggestion down instantly, unsure if Natalya was serious or not, then picked up his coffee and moved to sit at one of the vacant tables. Natalya joined him, flopping down opposite him into the hard plastic chair. 

Since starting his role with North West Ambulance, Sigurd had become close to Natalya. She was a senior EMT and police liaison, and despite her stern looks, long, black nails and steely eyes, she was kind and shared Sigurd’s quick wit. They only really saw each other during breaks in the crew room as Natalya was always based more within the depot and less out on duty. 

She listened as Sigurd told her about why he ended up with an undercut, and about his bike being stolen to which she looked genuinely apologetic, but she did also seem amused by the unfortunate event that had led to the back of his head being accidentally shaved. Then, just as he was about to raise his mug to his lips to take a sip from his coffee his radio crackled to life, startling him and he spilt a little across the table. 

“52, _Sigurd, can you come to bay 4? You’re on 111 tonight, over._ ” 

Putting his mug back onto the table with a soft sigh, Sigurd stood up to grab a paper towel to wipe up the spilt drink, and when he turned back around Natalya now had the mug curled between her fingers. He looked at her with narrowed eyes while he mopped up the coffee, the paper towel quickly going soggy. 

“What? I knew you weren’t going to have time to drink it, that’s why I didn’t make one for myself.” she said, and Sigurd rolled his eyes as he tossed the soiled paper towel into the bin then brought his hand up to his radio clipped to his breast pocket,

“On my way, over.”

Leaving Natalya to enjoy the rest of her break and his coffee, Sigurd said his goodbyes and left the crew room for the start of his shift. For the first couple of weeks when he was still new, Sigurd would often get lost in the network of corridors that made up the ambulance depot, and would constantly end up in a supplies cupboard by accident or walking in on someone taking a nap in one of the lounges, but eventually he’d gotten used to the maze and now walked confidently down to vehicle bay 4.

As he pushed through the doors and stepped into the garages, Sigurd was met by the familiar mix of sterile disinfectant and engine oil that always seemed to linger in the air after clean downs. Jack, a lead EMT, and Milen, one of the fleet technicians, were stood by the stationary ambulances, and when Jack spotted him he waved over to him.

“Evening mate, welcome to your first night shift!” he said enthusiastically as Sigurd approached them, smiling a little shyly in greeting as he looked between them. 

Sigurd had done the majority of his training with Jack, and although he was loud and had a pretty childish sense of humour, he had a heart of gold. Sigurd got on with him surprisingly well, and he couldn’t imagine him doing anything else other than be a paramedic. 

“How are you feeling?” Milen asked, and Sigurd shrugged,

“Fine, though it was weird trying to sleep in until past noon.” he said, and Jack laughed loudly as he handed Sigurd the keys to the Crusader. 

“Well, the first night is always the worst, but you got me for company!” 

Milen cast Sigurd a slightly sympathetic look, probably for being crewed with Jack all night, and patted him on the shoulder before taking his leave, and Sigurd drew in a quick breath before climbing into the driver's seat. It was 6pm, and the Crusader would be his office for the next 12 hours.

He took a moment to follow his training, pulling his seat forward and adjusting the steering wheel height before fastening his seatbelt.

“So you probably heard me on the radio before, but we’ll be on 111 tonight. Being on duty at night is completely different from what you’re used to, but just remember your training best you can. Ask questions if you need to, that’s why you’re with the best of the best.” Jack grinned and plugged his radio into the ambulance ready to receive the calls from dispatch while Sigurd nodded as he started the engine.

They weren’t waiting long, perhaps less than 10 minutes, when the first call came through interrupting their small talk.

“ _Millfield shopping centre, we have a 33 year old female in labour. 52 you’re closest. A security guard is with her currently, and he’s advised that you can pull in around the loading bay for access, over_.”

Shifting in his seat, Jack rubbed his hands together a little excitedly as Sigurd pulled out of the bay on blues only.

“And we’re off! I remember when my Zoe was in labour with our boy like it was yesterday.” Jack reminisced as Sigurd brought them out of the depot and onto the main road. The roads were pretty clear, and Sigurd was thankful that their first call of the evening was to a simple location. There was nothing worse than being the driver when directions were vague. 

While weaving in and out of the traffic, Jack discussed his life as a father, and Sigurd listened with a smile on his face at hearing how proud he was when he spoke about his wife and his son. 

Little over 20 minutes after receiving the call, Jack and Sigurd arrived on scene, and sure enough Sigurd was able to pull into the loading bay around the back of the shopping centre where a second security guard was waiting for them. The woman in labour was lovely, and surprisingly relaxed considering that she was probably at least 10cm dilated. Sigurd held her hand gently and supported her as they walked to the ambulance, then Jack rode in the back with her while Sigurd drove up front by himself to the hospital. Despite the roads being quiet, the hospital was busy as ever, and Sigurd had to que for a little while before he could get into the drop off point where the midwife and nurses were waiting for them.

For the next few hours, Sigurd and Jack hardly stopped and calls came in from all over the city. 111 was the non-emergency community response line, dealing with anything that wasn’t considered life threatening; though on the odd occasion things could escalate to needing full blues and twos. Luckily for Sigurd, who still wasn’t fully confident driving on sirens just yet, they hadn’t needed to use them. 

A prank call, two drunken men patched up and sent on their way and one elderly lady needing assistance getting downstairs safely after her stairlift had packed up later, Jack and Sigurd were on their way back to depot for their break. It was nearing 11pm, and Sigurd was starting to feel tired. As he hopped down out of the Crusader he took a moment to stretch, shaking his head and rolling his shoulders in an attempt to wake himself up a little. He still had 6 hours to go once he’d taken an hour and ten minutes for something to eat and possibly a lie down. 

As he followed Jack through the corridor and back up to the crew room, Sigurd silenced his radio and undid the top button on his shirt,

“Good going so far, mate. Once it gets to 2am things can get a little weird especially if you feel tired, so make sure you chill out for a little while now before we go back out.” Jack said with a kind smile as he held the door open for Sigurd, then made a beeline for the table that a couple other crew members were crowded around.

“Macca’s! What a treat!” he cried as he helped himself to a handful of fries from the various paper bags of McDonald’s take out that had been ordered. Sigurd took a couple of chicken nuggets before joining Natalya where she sat with two others, a board game spread out between them. He straddled the chair backwards and popped a nugget in his mouth.

“Has a drunk pissed or vomited on you yet?” Natalya didn't look up from the board as she spoke, cupping her hand and shook some dice before rolling them across the table. 

Sigurd shrugged, “No bodily fluids yet, but one guy did tell me that I was too pretty to be a paramedic before offering me a pint of lager to, and I quote, ‘put hair on my chest’.”

“Ah, a standard night shift then.” an impressive set of eyebrows said from the far end of the table as he leant back in his chair and placed a book that he was holding down in front of him.

“Aw, losing your night shift virginity tonight, huh?” the other at the table chimed in, and Sigurd just blinked at him as he ate another chicken nugget. 

“Guys, be nice. Sig, this is Arthur and Vlad.” Natalya waved her hand in their general direction as she introduced them. Sigurd had seen Arthur around before but had never spoken to him, and found out that he was an Emergency First Responder when Natalya continued with her introductions. Vlad was a Patient Transport crew member, on call to pick up patients after major surgery or hospital discharge. 

Sigurd sat and watched them play their game while he finished off his chicken nuggets, slowly becoming intrigued by the story as Arthur dramatically read from the booklet and Vlad and Natalya rolled the dice and chose from scenario’s offered up by Arthur.

Suddenly, Natalya’s radio sounded. She rolled her eyes as she pushed herself away from the table and handed the dice to Sigurd.

“I have to deal with this intel, take over for me.”

She pressed the dice into his palm, and before Sigurd could protest she left the crew room, chatting into her radio.

Looking between Vlad and Arthur, Sigurd fiddled with the dice between his fingers,

“Um, I have no idea how to play.” he mumbled, not enjoying being put on the spot, but Vlad just smiled and leant forward, placing his chin in his palm.

“It’s simple really. We only just started this campaign too so it’ll be easy for you to pick it up. We can fill anything in that you don’t understand. Just roll!”

His expression was eager, and so Sigurd rolled the dice on the table. All three of them leant forward to peer at them, then Arthur grinned.

“Aha! The Queen, that’s you, has encountered a crossroads. Will you stop the horse and cart that’s currently coming up the road, kill the driver and take off in disguise, or will you keep your head down and keep going on foot?”

Staring at the pieces on the board, Sigurd thought about the scenario and tried to think what Natalya would want him to do. He was playing as her character after all. Then again, he’d been vaguely following the story and knew enough to continue himself. 

“The Queen stops the cart, apologies before she draws a knife to his throat. But she doesn’t kill him, and instead cuts off her braid with the knife then demands him to give her his clothes. Thankful that she spared his life, the man does as she asks and the Queen makes her escape.”

Pleased with his response, Sigurd looked up at Vlad and Arthur, but his grin faltered a little upon catching their reactions.

“You can’t just think of whatever scenario you want! I’m the Dungeon Master, you have to follow what I say.” Arthur huffed, and Vlad just shook his head and pointed to Arthur with his thumb.

“You don’t have to do everything he says. Being DM is overrated anyway.” he smirked, then gave Sigurd a little wink. Then Sigurd couldn’t help but laugh as Arthur whacked Vlad lightly across the back of the head with what he assumed was some sort of rule book that he’d been reading from. 

*

As the weeks passed, Sigurd had settled into his night shifts and found that he would look forward to the Thursday night Dungeons and Dragons campaign that he’d somehow now become a part of. 

Natalya wouldn’t always play with them as her department was always the busiest at night, but Vlad, Arthur and Sigurd had formed quite the friendship. There was something so bizarre about completing the first half of a shift in what was a relatively stressful job to sit and eat dinner at 11pm at night and be whisked away into a world of dragons, mages and monsters for an hour until it was time to go back out into the real world. Sometimes they would hardly play the game, and instead would just talk and share stories about people they’d encountered, and Sigurd found that if he’d had a particularly rough shift he’d always feel better after chatting with the rest of the ‘magic trio’ as they’d been nicknamed by the other EMT’s that they shared a shift with.

As well as his friendship with his colleagues, Sigurd’s hair had grown as well, and once he found that he could run his fingers through the short strands that made up his undercut he decided that on his next day off it was time for a tidy up.

The bell above the door to the salon chimed as he opened it and stepped inside, and Sigurd was met by several eyes on him, both staff and nosey clients, looking at him from through the mirror. 

“Sigurd! How are you? Good to see you.” Liz greeted him cheerfully as he approached the front desk, leaving her client for a short moment to quickly scribble out his name in the appointments ledger.

“Timo’s just in the back mixing a colour for me. Take a seat and he'll gown you up in just a moment, he won’t be long. Can I take your coat?”

Liz pointed to the only free chair on the far end of the row closest to the window then motioned for Sigurd to give her his jacket. 

He took it off and handed it to her with a smile, then took a seat and glanced around the salon. It was Saturday, and every chair was full. Sigurd noticed that a third hairdresser was working today too. He was tall and slim with expensive looking glasses and bluntly cut blonde hair, and was chatting away to a girl in the chair before him while he applied colour to her hair. 

Then, drifting from somewhere in the back, Sigurd heard Timo’s bright laugher before he saw him. He appeared from the back room carrying a plastic bowl of mixed hair dye in one hand and a white mug in the other, and Sigurd watched him through the mirror as he set the colour down on the wheeled workstation beside Liz and stopped for a moment to talk to her. He was dressed in a plum coloured long sleeved turtle neck and black silk trousers that hugged his thighs and bottom rather nicely - not that Sigurd was looking. 

Once Timo had stopped talking to Liz and began to make his way over to where he was sitting, Sigurd averted his gaze and paid a sudden interest to his nail beds. 

“Hi Sigurd! I’m so glad that you came back in. Here, this is for you.” Timo smiled at Sigurd through the mirror as he set down the mug on the little shelf underneath it in front of Sigurd.

“If you want any more creamer or sugar just let me know, okay? Now, what’s the plan?” 

Placing his hands on his hips, Timo looked at Sigurd as he reached for his phone and pulled it from his pocket, then leaned in and peered over his shoulder as he began to swipe through his pictures until he found the screenshot he’d taken of a hairstyle he’d seen online about a week ago.

“I was actually wondering if you could do something like this?” Sigurd said quietly as he passed his phone to Timo over his shoulder and watched nervously as he pinched his fingers on the screen, zooming in on the image. It was a picture of someone with a similar undercut to his own, but with a geometric pattern cut into it.

“Oooh, how exciting! What sort of pattern do you want to go for?” Timo asked, his eyes wide, and Sigurd spun around in the chair so he didn’t have to keep looking at Timo through the mirror.

“I’m not too sure. Maybe not something as geometric and sharp as that. I thought you could help me decide?"

A delighted smile broke across Timo’s face at this, and he quickly handed Sigurd his phone back before scurrying over to the front desk where he plucked a pencil from the stationary pot and grabbed a sheet of blank paper. Then, he sat down on the couch beneath the window and beckoned for Sigurd to come and sit beside him.

Rising from the salon chair, Sigurd perched beside Timo and watched as he brought the pencil to the page and began to sketch out a couple of designs.

“I don’t really get to work with stencils or patterns often, so I’m not sure that I can do anything super advanced, but how about a softer pattern like this?”

Once he’d finished, Timo looked up at Sigurd to gauge his reaction. It was pretty. Nicer than the geometric pattern with rounded curves and swirls, and better than anything Sigurd could have thought of by himself. 

“I like it. Plus, if you mess it up it’s not as if I’m paying for his haircut.” Sigurd teased and watched as Timo’s face turned pink.

“I won’t mess it up, I promise!” he said, standing up from the couch, flustered. 

Sitting back in the salon chair, Sigurd sat still as Timo gowned him up then once he’d finished and was fiddling around with the electric clippers he reached forward to grab his coffee and took a few sips. It was a little too sweet for his liking, and Sigurd made a mental note to ask for less sugar next time.

“So, it’s pretty busy in here, huh?” Sigurd mused as he put his mug back down and Timo stopped fussing over the clippers for a moment to beam at Sigurd,

“Yep! Saturday’s are always busy here. It’s my favourite day of the week by far.” 

Judging by the name of the salon above the salon, _Trim by Timo & Co. _Sigurd could only guess that it was Timo’s business. 

“It wasn’t always this way though, it takes a while to build a client base.” Timo continued, dropping his gaze to the back of Sigurd’s neck, “I’m just going to dampen your hair, sorry if this is a little cold,” he warned before spritzing the back of Sigurd’s hair with water from a spray bottle and combing it through. 

Closing his eyes, Sigurd enjoyed the feeling of the comb running over his scalp and the back of his neck.

“How’s work been for you?” Timo asked after a little while, and Sigurd wasn’t too sure if he’d genuinely remembered what he did and was curious, or if he was just asking to initiate small talk as all hairdressers seemed to do. 

“I was watching a programme on TV a couple of nights ago about the ambulance service. It was really interesting.”

Oh, so he _had_ remembered. 

“Uh, yeah it’s going well. I started night shifts a few weeks ago. They’re… interesting, as you say.” Sigurd said with a small smirk, and Timo caught his eye in the mirror.

Once Timo had turned the clippers on, Sigurd lowered his head and tried to keep as still as possible while he chatted to Timo while he worked. Timo had asked what sorts of things happened that made it interesting, and Sigurd told the tale of the complaint they’d received from a member of the general public who’d taken note of the licence plate of one of the ambulances that was responding to an emergency and called in to the 111 line to raise a complaint that the ambulance was speeding. 

This caused Liz to stop what she was doing and stare over at him incredulously, her client doing the same.

“No _way_. Do people not have anything better to do?” she cried, and Sigurd glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

Timo paused what he was doing for a moment to straighten up and look between Liz and Sigurd.

“What’s that meme, where people complain about stupid things or are just really shallow minded?” he asked aloud to the room, and the 3rd hairdresser, the one with the glasses, stopped what they were doing also to join in the conversation.

“A Karen. And you’re totally right, that’s such a Karen thing to do.” he said, matter of fact, and Liz and Timo burst out laughing.

“Yes, Eduard, a _Karen_!” Timo exclaimed, then continued to chuckle to himself under his breath as he returned his attention to Sigurd’s hair. 

Timo didn’t say much more after that, seemingly lost in concentration, and Sigurd found that he was nearly falling asleep in the chair when the buzzing of the clippers against the back of his head stopped and Timo stood back to admire his work, a triumphant smile on his face. 

“There, done! If you don’t like it, please be honest and I’ll make any changes that you want!"

He had a nervous tone to his voice as he picked up a round mirror and positioned it so Sigurd could see the back of his head if he looked into the larger mirror in front of him. 

He gasped inwardly upon catching sight of his hair. He loved it. Timo had tidied up the cut, shaving it back down again to only a cm or so, then he’d cut a pattern of swirls and fades. Due to Sigurd’s hair being such a pale blonde colour, the pattern wasn’t glaringly obvious, nor did it seem too out of place on him and if anything it accentuated his curls even more.

Seemingly taking Sigurd’s silence as a bad thing, Timo chewed on his lip and his brows were furrowed,

“Oh no, have I done a bad job? Don’t you like it?” 

Hurrying to reassure him, Sigurd spun around in the chair once more to face him.

“No, I like it. I like it a lot, it’s perfect.” Sigurd said with a smile, a little surprised at how confident his new haircut made him feel and found that he couldn’t wait to show his work friends tomorrow. Natalya was going to love it. 

“Oh, phew!” Timo laughed a little and let out a breath, “I was worried there for a moment. But I’m glad that you like it. It suits you, you look really handsome.” 

Sigurd felt blood rush to his cheeks at the compliment and wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He was glad when Timo didn’t wait for him to say anything and instead worked on taking the gown from Sigurd and brushed the fallen hair from his shoulders and the back of his neck with a large soft brush. 

Once he’d finished, Sigurd stood up and reached in his pocket for his wallet,

“Are you sure you don’t want any money for this? I don’t mind, one free haircut was enough-” he began, but Timo shook his head and held a hand up to stop him.

“Don’t be silly. I was meaning to ask you actually if you have any photos of your bike. I still feel really bad, so I was going to make a couple of posters to put up in the window in case anyone sees it or post in a facebook group or something.” he said, fiddling with a pair of scissors in the tool pouch around his waist. 

“Yeah, I have some photos, but you don’t have to go to the trouble, honestly.” Sigurd said, but Timo wasn’t taking no for an answer. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and unlocked it, thumbs tapping over the screen for a moment before he handed it to Sigurd with facebook open on the screen.

“You have facebook, right? Find yourself and I’ll add you, then when you get a chance, accept my request and send me any photos that you have.” 

Sigurd looked at him for a moment before he sighed and turned his attention to Timo’s phone in his hands and searched for his own name, found his profile and then sent the request.

“There, done. But seriously, Timo, don’t worry about it.” 

Though he honestly didn’t want Timo to go to too much trouble, Sigurd was touched that he cared about his bike.

“Just send me the photos and I’ll handle the rest.” Timo said firmly as he put his phone away, then his cheerful smile returned,

“Now, do you want to book in your next appointment while you’re here?” 

Sigurd shrugged as he followed Timo to the front desk and booked in an appointment for 4 weeks time like Timo had suggested, saying how the pattern would soon grow out and if he wanted to keep on top of it then 4 weeks would be best. He scribbled the appointment down on a card embossed with the salon’s logo, and Sigurd slid it into his pocket before turning to leave.

“Well, I’ll see you in four weeks then. And remember, message me the photos!” Timo called after Sigurd as he opened the door, and he nodded with a small smile before stepping out, running a hand across the back of his neck and tracing the pattern with his finger once the door closed behind him before setting off home with a spring in his step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natalya in this fic is inspired by this art by Nordickies because she's so stunning and my gal needed a revamp I'm sorry 
> 
> https://nordickies.tumblr.com/post/628435412134805504/nordickies-designing-nations-part-6
> 
> I know nothing about D&D lol I'm sorry :')
> 
> Also please let me know if the way I write Sigurd at work is confusing at all in this fic! I wasn't sure if some of the things would make sense or read right to someone who doesn't actually work for the ambulance but I think it's all pretty self explanatory aaaaa I just worry about small things so please let me know if I should change some of the wording or jargon that makes sense to probably only me lol
> 
> I hope the pacing is okay and that you liked this chapter!
> 
> -lumassen x


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three - Porsche Boxster 718**

A droplet of water dripped from the end of Sigurd’s hair and onto his phone screen, and he wiped it away carefully so as to not accidentally like the photo he was looking at. He was sitting on the bed with just a towel around his waist, his skin and hair still wet from the shower as he flipped through Timo’s profile pictures. As promised, he’d sent over a couple of photos of his bicycle to him via facebook messenger that he had from when he competed in a cycling competition around the North York moors. It was a kind gesture from Timo to try and locate his stolen bike, but Sigurd knew that it was long gone, and so after his next paycheck he planned to take a trip to the cycle warehouse to buy a new one.

Timo’s current profile picture was a selfie that he’d taken in one of the full length mirrors in his salon. His lips formed a slight pout, and he stood off to an angle. There was no caption, but the photo had a staggering 87 likes compared to the standard 10 that Sigurd would always get on his own profile. The next photo that Sigurd swiped to was another selfie, though this time taken on the front camera of Timo’s phone and he had that silly dog ears and tongue snapchat filter on that everyone seemed to use these days.

Sigurd flipped though a couple more selfies, a photo that someone else had taken of Timo holding a fluffy white Bichon Frise, a group picture with Liz and Eduard in what looked like a bar on the beach, yet another selfie of Timo with a rainbow painted on his cheeks at a pride festival, but then when Sigurd began to notice that Timo was starting to look increasingly younger and much thinner in the photos he stopped swiping, not wanting to feel like a complete stalker by going back through his profile so far. But he was still curious about Timo, and couldn’t bring himself to tap away from his facebook page just yet, and so instead Sigurd started to scroll through his timeline.

His feed was mostly filled with pictures of his work, photos of his clients hair with bubbly and affectionate captions where Timo would gush about how handsome or beautiful his clients were. There were a couple tagged photos of him, mostly posted by either Liz or someone called Karoliina Väinämöinen who Sigurd could only guess was Timo’s mother. He stopped scrolling when he came to a post that drew his attention. It was a photo that had been posted originally by Liz, but Timo had shared it and typed out a large paragraph of his own. Tapping on the photo, Sigurd opened up the post in full and read the first couple of lines.

“ _Sooo proud of my girl @Lizzie Héderváry !!! <3 Not only did she just complete a marathon in just under 4 and a half hours, but she raised 3k for Diabetes EU! If you sponsored this amazing lady and you still need to pay, you can drop your sponsor money off at Timo & Co all week this week before we submit the donation!”_

Dragging his thumb down the screen, Sigurd scrolled to the photo and tapped on it to enlarge it. Liz was in the middle wrapped in a silver foil blanket, her face bright red and she was drenched in sweat but her smile couldn’t possibly be any wider. Timo was to her left standing on his tiptoes, his arm around her neck as he planted a kiss on her cheek. Eduard was on the other side of her, beaming with pride the same as several others who crowded around them. Sigurd found himself smiling at the photo as he looked at it for a little while longer before exiting off Timo’s page and locking his phone.

He tossed it beside him onto the bed then stood up, running another towel over his hair to soak up the excess water, then he picked up his hair dryer from the top of the dresser and stood in front of the mirror. As he blow dried his hair, he ran his fingers over the undercut at the back of his head. Though he could still feel that there were different lengths cut into his hair from the pattern, it was definitely starting to lose its definition, and Sigurd was glad that he had another appointment next week to get it neatened up again.

Once his hair was dry, Sigurd got dressed into his uniform, gathered his things and headed downstairs. He lived alone in a small two bedroom house. The rent was a little on the expensive side considering it was just him paying all the bills, but after his previous housemate had moved out a year ago and the landlord had asked if he wanted to search for another or not, Sigurd had decided he’d rather keep living there by himself - especially now that he’d started his paramedic job and needed peace and quite some days while he worked night shifts.

Today was his last Physical Evaluation Test - a fitness test designed to assess trainee paramedics stamina and capabilities. Soon Sigurd would be at the 6 month mark since starting his training, and one he’d hit it he had to take an evaluation shift where he’d be watched and tested by a senior EMT.

Sigurd’s stomach flipped as he sat down on the stair third from the bottom to tie his shoes. Although he felt fairly confident about the PET, the thought that this would be the last one before his final assessment played on his mind. After years of training the finishing line was finally in sight and if he passed then he’d no longer be a trainee and could finally become a full paramedic.

Plucking his keys from the hook on the wall by the door, Sigurd felt in his pocket for his phone and his wallet, then when he was sure he had everything he left the house, locking the front behind him then set off toward the bus stop.

The only plus side of not cycling to work is that Sigurd didn’t have to get changed out of his cycling gear once he got there, but every day as Sigurd stood at the bus stop and flagged down the 147 that dropped him off just around the corner from the ambulance station he missed the freedom of being on his bike more and more.

When Sigurd arrived at work he was a little early for his test, so he took himself up to the crew room to fill his water bottle up. At this time in the afternoon when most people were out on shift the crew room was usually empty, and Sigurd had it all to himself.

He sat at the table and sipped from his water bottle while half paying attention to the crappy daytime television soap opera that was on the TV on the wall until the double doors swung open and Jack appeared.

“Afternoon Thomassen! You ready for your test?” he beamed, holding the door open with his hand and jerked his head to signal for Sigurd to follow him.

As they walked down the corridor and down the stairs that lead out into the car park at the back of the garages, Sigurd was relieved when Jack told him that it would be him and Natalya that would be doing his final assessment, feeling less worried about making a silly mistake in front of colleagues that he was friendly with.

Sure enough, as they pushed out of the back door, Natalya was just finishing setting up a perimeter of orange plastic cones around the car park. A couple of hand weights and a bar weight were piled on the ground in one corner, a set of 6 metal steps and other pieces of equipment that Sigurd recognised from previous PET’s were also placed around to make up a course.

“Hey, Sig. How are you feeling? Nervous?” Natalya said as Sigurd and Jack stopped in front of her. She had her hair tied up into a sleek bun atop her head today and a stopwatch dangled around her neck.

“A little.” Sigurd admitted, fiddling with the clips on his belt.

Jack shook his head and laughed, “Don’t be, mate, you’ve done so many of these now it’ll be like clock work. Besides, I’ve seen how you are when you’re on shift with me, and you’ve got nothin’ to to worry about.”

Sigurd nodded and pulled his shoulders back, taking position between the starting cones and watched as Jack picked up a clipboard and Natalya placed her thumb over the button to start the stopwatch.

“Alright, 3,2,1, test begin.”

Following Natalya’s instructions, Sigurd completed each test with as much precision as he could, remembering to keep his form on point at all time when doing deadlifts with the weights, when kneeling down beside the resuscitation manikin and completing 2 minutes of CPR chest compressions, and even when partnering with Jack to demonstrate how he would maneuver using a stretcher up and down a flight of stairs. By the end of the test his breathing was heavy and a patch of sweat was forming across his back, but when Natalya stopped the stopwatch and gave him his time, Sigurd couldn’t help but smile.

“7 minutes 13 seconds. Your personal best and a more than quick enough time to pass your final PET. Well done.” Natalya announced proudly, and Jack slapped Sigurd affectionately on the back a couple of times.

*

Sigurd’s good mood stuck around for the rest of the week, and he was even able to shrug off his annoyance at the complaint that had been received about him from a member of the public who had called into 111, outraged that he’d pulled into the KFC drive through to grab something to eat in the ambulance while he was on his break.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe that people are so silly!” Timo exclaimed as he snipped at the ends of Sigurd’s hair when he told him about it the next time he found himself in the salon chair.

“Do these people not have anything better to be doing with their time? It’s as though they don’t expect you to eat or something?” he continued, shaking his head a little, though still not breaking concentration as he took an inch or so off Sigurd’s length.

 _Timo & Co_ was quickly becoming one of Sigurd's favourite places to spend his time and he found that he would look forward to his appointments perhaps a little too much. Due to being on late shifts all week, Sigurd had a later appointment today so that he could sleep in on his day off, and so he and Timo were the only ones in the otherwise empty salon. It was a couple of minutes past 5, the time that Timo usually closed up for the evening, but he’d offered to stay a little later to fit Sigurd in.

“But enough about those idiots, congratulations on passing your EPT, that’s great! When do you find out about your evaluated shift?”

Sigurd didn’t have the heart to correct Timo, knowing full well that he meant the PET, and instead just smiled a little shyly at him through the mirror.

“Thanks. And I’m not sure, the whole point is that I can’t prepare for it, so I’ll just turn up for a shift one day and there’ll be someone from the board that’ll ride in the ambulance with me for the day to check that I’m doing everything right.” he said with a slight shrug.

There was then a pause as Timo slid his scissors back into the pouch on his hip and reached for the clippers. Sigurd was used to the routine by now, and knew to lower his head so that Timo could work on his undercut.

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine!” he beamed through the mirror, but then set the clippers back down again and his grin faltered slightly.

“Before I start with your pattern, do you mind if I quickly run and grab a glass of water? I’m so thirsty lately and I don’t know why,” he laughed awkwardly, “Do you want anything?”

Raising his head up again, Sigurd swivelled around a little in the chair so that he was looking at Timo directly rather than through the mirror.

“Of course not, and no thank you, I’m fine.”

Timo flashed him a smile before dashing off into the back, leaving Sigurd to look around the salon. After looking through Timo’s facebook profile and chatting with him briefly over messenger, Sigurd couldn’t help but notice now how much love and personality he’d clearly poured into his business. Like the clothes he always wore, most of the furniture in the salon was black and sleek, the chairs and couches were black leather and the front desk was black with a marbled effect. A painting of the same white fluffy dog he’d seen in Timo’s profile photo was handing on the wall above the front desk in a lacquered frame. The wooden floor was always polished and shiny, and the pristine white walls should have had an unwelcoming, clinical feel to them, but instead they were lined with photos of Timo, Liz and Eduard or high quality pictures of demo hairstyles.

The traffic passed on the road outside, rumbling past the window, and Sigurd sat in a quiet silence while he waited for Timo to return, swivelling side to side ever so slightly in the chair as he watched the street lamps flicker to life against the darkening autumn sky.

“I made you a coffee anyway, just a small cup!” Timo called from the back room, then emerged with a tall glass of water in one hand and a coffee cup just slightly larger than espresso size in the other. He set it down in front of Sigurd, who then watched asTimo took a couple of large gulps from his glass then put it down on the front desk behind him.

“Much better, sorry about that.” he said, then picked the clippers back up and pressed the tips of his fingers gently against the back of Sigurd’s head to tilt it down. The clippers buzzed to life, and Timo set to work going over the pattern and neatening up the clean lines at the nape of Sigurd’s neck.

“I wish my hair was this colour, do you know how many people come in here and ask Eduard to make the platinum?” he mused as he worked, running a couple of Sigurd’s curls between his fingers of his free hand, and Sigurd glanced at him as best he could through his hair that had fallen over his face as his head was down and narrowed his eyes.

“So blonde isn’t your natural colour?”

Timo stopped for a moment and laughed as he met Sigurd’s eye, then peered at himself in the mirror and tousled his own hair,

“Oh honey, no this is years of 40 vol peroxide and 2 weekly root touch ups. But I’m pleased that you thought it was natural.” he said with a smile before returning his attention to Sigurd’s hair. Now that Sigurd was properly looking at Timo, he noticed that his brows were indeed dark and defined instead of fair and pale like his own. His eyes were dark too, a deep shade of brown that Sigurd couldn’t help but think were pretty and warm looking in contrast to the white blonde of his hair.

“They say you can tell a lot about a person by the way that they wear their hair, and though I like it on other people, I think that my natural brown hair makes me look dull and dumpy.”

“I don’t think you could ever look dull, or dumpy for that matter.” Sigurd mumbled, and Timo’s smile grew brighter.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet.”

Timo continued to work on Sigurds hair and a silence fell between them as Sigurd took a couple of awkward sips of his coffee before it got too cold while still trying to keep his head as still as he could.

“There! All done. Do ya mind if I take a couple of photos for my Instagram and Facebook portfolio please? I’m pretty pleased with this pattern.” Timo asked a little sheepishly as brushed the back of Sigurd’s neck with a big fluffy brush to rid his shoulders of any fallen hair, then he took a step back and tilted his head to the side a little, getting a good look at the symmetry of the pattern to make sure that it was just right.

“Sure, go ahead.” Sigurd downed the last of his coffee and stood up, taking his gown off and folding it up as Timo pulled his phone from his back pocket.

“Can you stand against this plain bit of wall please?” he said as he crossed the room and stopped by the sinks at the back of the salon. Sigurd was happy to oblige and stood tall by the wall, making sure not to slouch his shoulders as Timo snapped a couple of photos. They were mainly all of the back of his head, but he took a couple from the side too, and Sigurd wasn’t quite sure how to hold his expression for the photos so he hoped he didn’t look bored in them or as though he were scowling.

“Perfect, thank you!” Timo grinned, putting his phone away then flipped his hair out of his eyes.

“No worries, are you still sure you don’t want paying for this?” Sigurd followed Timo over to the front desk where he pressed a button on the wall and the shutters over the windows began to roll down.

“Not a penny! You still have one freebie left too.” he winked, then left Sigurd standing at the front desk as he grabbed the broom and swept up the hair that surrounded the chair that he’d been sitting in. He watched as he swept it into a neat pile then bent down to collect it into a dustpan and tipped it into a trash bin beneath the mirror.

“Since it’s late and I’m closing up now anyway, I was wondering if you wanted a lift home?” Timo smiled at Sigurd as he grabbed both of their jackets from the coat hook and passed him his.

Sigurd waved his hand in dismissal before sliding his arms into his jacket and shrugging it on over his shoulders. “No no, you don’t have to do that.” he declined the offer politely, but then scrambled to catch a set of keys that Timo tossed at him.

“I don’t mind! Lock the front door for me and pull the shutter down while I bring my car around? The light switch is to your left~”

Before Sigurd could protest, Timo disappeared into the back leaving Sigurd standing clutching the salon keys. With a small sigh he flipped the lights off and made sure that the salon was in darkness before opening the door and stepping out on the street. It took him a moment to figure out which was the key for the door, and he tried three in the lock before he found the right one. Once it was locked, he pulled on the handle to make sure it was definitely secure then reached up onto his tiptoes to curl his fingers around the shutter. As he pulled it down he couldn’t help but wonder how Timo would be able to reach the shutter if he was by himself as he was at least a head shorter than him.

Just as Sigurd fastened the bolt on the bottom of the shutter, he heard a car pull up behind him and when he turned around he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Timo was sitting in a sleek black Porsche convertible, with the soft top down and a slightly smug look on his face. He had a pair of sunglasses on, and Sigurd didn’t miss the personalised licence plate, ‘T1 M0V’, as he gave the car a once over.

“You think you look cool, don’t you, _Timo V_?” Sigurd teased with a smirk, folding his arms over his chest and nodded toward the licence plate, then looked at Timo with a raised brow.

“Oh, I _know_ I look cool.” Timo said, then revved the engine a little, but his smug expression turned into his usual warm smile. “Are you going to get in or just stand there?”

Sigurd ran his hand over the top of the door before he opened it and slid into the red leather seats, passing the salon keys to Timo.

“You do know that the sun is about to set any minute.” he deadpanned, motioning to Timo’s sunglasses.

“They’re prescription, I need them to see, but regular glasses don’t suit me so I just wear these.” he shrugged then looked at Sigurd as if wearing sunglasses to replace glasses completely was the most normal thing in the world, and Sigurd couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Now, where do you live?”

As Timo pulled away from the kerb, Sigurd directed him through the city until they broke away from the main road and onto the backroads, heading out towards the suburbs. With the roof down, Sigurd could hear every rev that the Porsche made as Timo drove, and despite it being mid October the wind wasn’t too cold as it blew through his hair. Now that they were away from the city and onto more quiet and winding roads surrounded by farm fields on either side, Timo put his foot down a little on the gas, and Sigurd was impressed with how smoothly he handled the car. Compared to driving in the ambulance at speed when on sirens, the Porsche was no doubt built for a more comfortable ride.

“When you come to the next set of traffic lights in about half a mile, go straight over and then at the set beyond take a right.” Sigurd pointed straight ahead as he gave Timo the next set of directions, and Timo nodded in acknowledgment.

Even when not in the salon, Timo was clearly still a fan of small talk, and asked Sigurd questions about his plans for the weekend and how his Thursday sessions with the Magic Trio were going. Sigurd sunk down a little in his seat at this question, hoping that Timo had forgotten about that, not wanting him to think that he was a complete nerd, but Timo seemed engrossed in their current campaign as he told him about it and made him promise to tell him where they story ended up the next time he was in the salon.

Then as Timo began to slow down as they reached the traffic lights that had just turned red, Sigurd took a moment to look at him out of the corner of his eye. There was more to Timo than just a bubbly, sassy hairdresser. He was kind, and seemed genuinely interested in the lives of his clients as Sigurd noticed that Timo never forgot even the tiniest thing that he’d said to him whilst they chatted in the salon. Sure, compared to Sigurd who lived a relatively quiet, simple and rather introverted life, Timo was outgoing, eccentric and a little showy, but in the same breath he wasn’t at all how one would expect him to act based on those qualities. He was handsome, and clearly liked his flashy cars and designer clothes, but he was one of the least self absorbed people that Sigurd had met.

As they were stopped waiting for the light to turn green, Sigurd turned to look to his left as another car pulled up beside them. Loud, bassy house music blasted from inside, and Sigurd watched as the driver eyed Timo’s car.

“Ah, BMW drivers, my favourite.” Timo had noticed the car too, and while keeping an eye on the traffic light, he flicked the switch on the dashboard and the canvas roof began to rise from behind them. As it closed, Timo put the car in gear and revved a couple of times, his eyes flickering between the BMW to their left and the traffic lights, and once the roof had closed above them Sigurd realised what Timo was about to do. He gripped the handle on the door just as the light first turned amber, then as it turned green Timo slammed his foot down on the gas and the engine growled, and Sigurd held his breath as his stomach flipped with the sudden force of the car accelerating so fast. The BMW tried to keep up, but Sigurd kept an eye on it in the wing mirror and couldn’t help but feel a little triumphant as it quickly fell behind.

“Ha! Did you see his face!” Timo cheered as they flew down the road, but he soon slowed down again much to Sigurd’s relief, “That’s gotta be one of my best yet, 0-60 in, what, maybe 4 seconds? What do you think?” he turned to Sigurd, his eyes wide and an excited look on his face.

“I’d say so, yeah. No more than 4 seconds.” Sigurd nodded, his words coming out a little breathless, and Timo burst out laughing.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t resist.” he leant forward and patted the top of the dashboard of the car affectionately, then took the right turn at the next set of traffic lights and pulled onto Sigurd’s street.

“You’re crazy, y’know that?” Sigurd said, though there was no malice in his tone, and in fact he rather enjoyed how much Timo’s personality contrasted with his own. He was like a breath of fresh air. Or a perhaps a gust of wind.

“So I’ve been told.” Timo grinned, then slowed down considerably, “Which ones yours?”

“Third from the end. With the green door.” Sigurd pointed to his house, and Timo brought his car up onto his empty driveway.

“You don’t drive at all then? You only cycled?” Timo asked, the question obviously triggered by the lack of a car out the front of Sigurd’s house, then bit his lip when Sigurd nodded and poised his hand over the door handle.

“I’m still really sorry that it got stolen. If you ever need a lift anywhere I’m happy to come and pick you up. Just message me, okay?”

Sigurd was touched by the offer, even though he knew that he probably wouldn’t take Timo up on it, he didn’t want to feel like an inconvenience even though he was grateful for this lift this evening that had saved him an hours bus journey.

“Thanks, I appreciate it. And please stop worrying ‘bout the bike. It wasn’t your fault.” Sigurd said over his shoulder as he opened the door and swung his legs out.

“And thanks for the lift too. I’ll uh, see you soon?” Once out of the car Sigurd ducked his head back in and looked at Timo who gave him one last warm smile.

“Sure, see you soon, just give the salon a call when you wanna book in. See you!” he waved to Sigurd as he slammed the car door closed, then beeped the horn as he reversed out of the driveway and turned around before revving off down the street.

Once Sigurd had let himself in the house, made a cup of tea and got comfortable on the couch, his phone buzzed not long after he’d sat down. He grabbed it from where it lay next to him, then unlocked the screen and looked at the message that had come through and saw that it was from Timo.

Puzzled, Sigurd opened it and nearly spat his tea out when he read the message.

_Timo Väinämöinen: Do u wanna meet me for coffee sometime? X  
Timo Väinämöinen: also u look really handsome in those photos lol_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter to shut up and drive by rihanna on repeat lol


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four - First Responder**

Sigurd woke at the first knock at the door, but he ignored it and pulled the duvet further over his head. All was quiet for a moment, but then the doorbell rang and there was another knock, louder this time. 

Grumbling to himself, Sigurd threw the duvet back and glanced at the clock at his bedside, 10:22am. He’d only been asleep just over three hours after getting in earlier that same morning from his night shift. Getting out of bed, Sigurd snatched his dressing gown from the back of the door and closed it around him, tying it at the waist as he yawned and plodded down the stairs. 

The man at the door shot him an apologetic look as he cracked the door open, squinting a little in the daylight as his eyes adjusted from being in his dark bedroom with his blackout curtains closed to allow him some sleep. 

“Yes?” Sigurd said with a sigh as he peered out of the door.

“Got a delivery for Mr Sigurd Thomassen. Can you sign here while I get it out of the van?” 

Opening the door a little wider, Sigurd reached out and took the clipboard and pen that the delivery driver handed to him. Sure enough, his name was printed at the top of the delivery sheet, but Sigurd had no idea what he was signing for as he scribbled his signature at the bottom of the page. He waited on the doorstep for a moment, then his eyes widened when the delivery guy came back around the corner wheeling a huge cardboard box in front of him.

Sigurd stepped out of the house and onto the doormat, the bristles prickling the soles of his bare feet.

“Are you sure this is for me?”

The delivery driver looked puzzled as he set the box down and took the clipboard back from Sigurd, scratching his head as he looked at it. 

“This is 62 Sycamore Avenue, right? Or have I got the wrong house?” he asked, peering over Sigurd’s shoulder to look at the number on the front of the door. 

“No, this is the right house. I just wasn’t expecting anything.” Sigurd said honestly, eyeing the box, then his breath caught a little in his throat as he caught sight of the logo on the side reading ‘cycle solutions’. 

“Well, sorry for wakin’ you, but enjoy your mystery delivery!” the delivery driver laughed as he took his leave, tipping his cap at Sigurd before hopping into his van and driving away.

It took Sigurd a good couple of minutes to drag the box inside. It was heavy, and only just fit through the door frame with an inch to spare. He hoped that none of the neighbours were watching him struggle with it, and when it was finally in his living room it nearly filled it. The top of the box was sealed shut with tape, so Sigurd grabbed a pair of scissors from the kitchen and sliced along the top then pulled the flaps up to peer inside.

In the box, though currently dismantled to fit into it, was his bike. It was the exact same colour and style as the one he’d had, with 7 gears and the spring suspension seat; the only difference was that this was the newer model that came with carbon fibre mudguards over the wheels. 

Sigurd was utterly confused, yet couldn’t stop a smile from spreading over his face at the fact he had a bike again, but he certainly didn’t remember ordering one. His phone was charging upstairs by his bed, so he couldn’t check, but a few nights ago he’d had a look on the Cycle Solutions website to browse for a replacement, and although he’d added the bike to his basket ready to order it on payday he was sure that he didn’t actually check out.

He fished around in the box for the paperwork and found it stuffed down the side beside the front wheel. Everything was in his name, the warranty, insurance, even the registration, but when Sigurd flipped to the last page to check the payment details he didn’t recognise the last 4 digits on the card used to pay. The writing was small, but when he looked at the transaction details and card holder name he suddenly felt colour rush to his cheeks; _Mr Timo Johan Väinämöinen_.

“Timo..” Sigurd muttered to himself under his breath as he squeezed past the bike box and jogged up the stairs two at a time, then flopped down onto his bed and picked up his mobile phone. He unplugged the charger, googled _Timo & Co_ and found the number, then brought the phone to his ear as the dial tone sounded. 

It rang a couple of times before it stopped and someone picked up,

“Good Morning, _Timo & Co_, Eduard speaking,”

Sigurd hesitated for a moment, hoping that it would have been Timo that picked up. He could hear the sound of a blow-dryer in the background so took in a breath, making sure to not mumble down the phone.

“Uh, Hi, is it possible to speak to Timo please?” he said, his leg jittering impatiently,

“Oh, Sorry but Timo’s taken the day off today. If you'd like to book in though I can still do that for you. Let me just grab his diary-”

“No, I don’t want to book, well, I do but just not today- I needed to speak to him about something else but don’t worry I can call back another time.” Sigurd spoke quickly, then pinched the bridge of his nose in spite of himself for rambling.

“Okay, no problem. Did you want to leave a message?” Eduard offered, and Sigurd shook his head but then remembered he was speaking on the phone,

“No thanks, I can get in touch with him another way don’t worry. Thanks though, bye.” 

Hanging up the phone, Sigurd opened up facebook and went straight to his messages with Timo. Since he’d asked him out for coffee, they’d exchanged a couple of messages back and forth, Timo had asked for suggestions of where Sigurd wanted to go and if he had any favourite spots, but they’d never ended up deciding on anywhere and the last message that Sigurd had sent yesterday morning was still unread. 

As his thumbs hovered over the keyboard, Sigurd wasn’t quite sure if he was annoyed with Timo for just buying and paying for a new bike without mentioning it or touched by such a kind gesture, especially as he knew how upset Timo had been that the bike got stolen from out the front of his salon. But either way, he couldn’t let him pay to replace a £1,200 bike.

_Message to Timo: So a brand new bike has just been delivered… Don’t suppose you know anything about this?_

Sigurd sent the message, stifling a yawn as he typed it out, then took off his dressing gown and let it fall to a heap on the floor by his bed. His phone was fully charged so he didn’t bother to plug it back in before snuggling back down under the duvet and setting it down on the edge of his bedside table. His mind felt wide awake despite his body feeling tired, and so Sigurd buried himself within the covers and shuffled in the bed for a moment while he got comfortable and willed himself to fall asleep to at least catch another couple hours.

*  
Timo still hadn’t replied to Sigurd’s message by the time he’d assembled his bike, checked the tyre pressure and got changed into his cycling gear and was ready to leave for work. When he looked at their messenger conversation he could see at the top of the screen under Timo’s profile that he was last active 16 hours ago. Locking his phone and zipping it away into his backpack with his uniform, Sigurd sighed and slid his arms through the straps and then fastened the buckle around his chest to secure it. When his bike had got stolen, his helmet was in the basket too and Timo hadn’t ordered one to come with the new bike, but Sigurd couldn’t stand one more day of taking the bus to work so instead he’d just stick to the pavement and cycle paths instead of taking the road. 

The sky was clear and the air was fresh, and Sigurd found that he couldn’t stop smiling all the way to work even despite his aching legs. It had been well over a month since the last time he’d ridden his bike, and by the time he turned the corner and arrived at work 40 minutes after setting off his calves were burning. 

Milen was in the carpark tinkering with the engine of one of the 4x4 ambulances as Sigurd stopped beneath the bike shelter and began to lock his bike up. He looked at him with a large grin and nodded toward his bike.

“So you managed to get it back then?” he said, turning to face Sigurd as he stopped in front of him, pulling his cycling gloves off as he shook his head,

“Nope, it’s a new one.” 

Sigurd then briefly told Milen about his morning and the surprise delivery, and that the bike had come from Timo.

“Damn, I need to get this guy to cut my hair.” Milen joked, an amused smirk on his face as he wiped his oil blackened hands on his trousers and slammed the hood of the ambulance closed.

“Well, the board are here today, I saw them arrive earlier, so I reckon you’ll have your evaluation today. Good luck!”

Patting Sigurd on the back, Milen disappeared back into the garage and Sigurd felt his hands grow clammy as he made his way inside the depot to get changed into his uniform. PET assessments he was fine with, as none of it was real, but the thought that the next 12 hours would be spent on shift having his every move and decision scrutinised by a complete stranger unnerved him a little. Once he was out of his cycling gear and dressed into his uniform, Sigurd shoved his things into his locker then splashed his face with a little cold water and slicked his hair back, sweeping it up and out of his face and secured it with his hairpin. 

Jack was sitting in the crew room when Sigurd walked in, and when he saw him he stood up and gave him one of his huge smiles.

“Well, this is it! Our final shift! If you pass today, which I know you will, then you’ll no longer be my crew mate and you’ll get your very own partner and vehicle. The guy from the board is waiting downstairs in bay 5 if you’re ready to get started?” 

Jack was enthusiastic, and didn’t seem to have picked up on Sigurd’s nerves, which Sigurd was glad of in a way as he could just pretend that this would be any other shift and that nothing was out of the ordinary. 

They walked the corridors together down to ambulance bay 5, Jack whistling cheerfully as they went, and once through the doors Sigurd spotted a tall man standing by his usual Crusader. 

“Hey Abel, nice to see ya. This is Sigurd. Sig, this is Abel from the board, one of the best assessors around.” Jack introduced them, and Sigurd offered his hand to Abel who shook it and gave him a curt nod. 

“So just treat this like any other shift, but you’ll be upfront and taking lead instead of me. We’ll be taking 999 until first break, then we’ll wind down with 111 for the rest of the night, okay?” 

Jack placed a hand on Sigurd’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze, and Sigurd nodded, opening up the door to the driver's seat and climbing up into the ambulance. Once inside, Abel sat on the far left, Jack in the middle, and Sigurd on the right behind the wheel.

“Alright Mr Thomassen, like Mr Wright said, treat this shift like you would any other. I won’t be getting in the way or asking you any questions especially while on scene, I just need to take some notes as we go, so just do your best to pretend I’m not here.”

Abel spoke calmly, and though Sigurd knew he was just trying to be reassuring, he couldn’t help but think just ignoring him would be easier said than done.

Nevertheless, Sigurd had a job to do, so he unclipped his radio from his pocket and plugged it into the dashboard. He’d barely adjusted the steering wheel and started the engine when a dispatch came through.

“ _52, receiving? Over_.” a voice muffled through the radio, and Sigurd leant over to press the button on the top. He recognised them as Amelia from control, a lively girl who’d started around the same time that he had.

“Receiving, go ahead dispatch. Over.” he said clearly, already aware of Abel scribbling notes on his clipboard as he watched him from the corner of his eye. 

“ _Casualty breathing but unresponsive, 26 year old male, severe Diabetic Ketone Acidosis, type 1, unsure of ketone reading or mmol. The mother is with them currently, but they’ve been unresponsive for some time. I’ve sent the location to your vehicle. Over.”_

“Copied. Thanks dispatch. Over.”

For a split second, Sigurd debated waiting for the location to come through to his navigation system, but not wanting to waste any time he knew that by the time he’d pulled out of the garage and onto the main road then it would have appeared, so he pulled out on lights and sirens, and sure enough by the time he was ready to turn out of the depot and onto the main road the directions appeared on his sat-nav.

Jack stayed quiet, letting Sigurd concentrate as drove at speed and weaved in and out of the traffic, watching as cars moved over to let him pass, glancing at the sat-nav every now and again to make sure he was going the right way. Thankfully, the casualty location was less than 5 miles away, and within 10 minutes they were on scene. 

Turning the sirens off but leaving the lights on, Sigurd pulled into a quiet street that was annoyingly lined with trees so he couldn’t park directly outside of the house where a woman was waving a little frantically to get their attention.

“Must be the mother.” Jack muttered, waving back to acknowledge her as Sigurd came to a stop. He put the handbrake on and got out, his hand trembling ever so slightly as he reached for the door handle and climbed out. Abel stood on the pavement, watching as Jack approached the mother and Sigurd opened up the back of the ambulance to pull out the stretcher then racked his brains as he looked around at all the equipment in front of him.

‘ _Casualty unresponsive, DKA, mmol,’_ Sigurd thought to himself, the words repeating over and over in his mind as he stepped up into the back of the ambulance and grabbed the kit with the drip and ketone testing meter that he’d need as well as a couple of vials of insulin. 

“Need me to grab anything, bud?” Jack said as he appeared behind him. Sigurd motioned to the stretcher that was leaning against the open doors and swung the med kit over his shoulder before hopping down out the back of the Crusader.

“Can you grab the stretcher please? Where is the casualty?” he asked, leaving the doors of the ambulance open and leading the way toward the house.

“Upstairs, second door to the left.” Jack confirmed, and Sigurd smiled at the mother as he stopped briefly before her,

“Hi, I’m Sigurd and this is Jack, we’re here to help. Can I ask how long your son has been unconscious?”

Her eyes were tearful and she wrung her hands anxiously in front of her,

“Karol, and I- I’m not sure. I left early for work this morning and he wasn’t up, and when I got back a little while ago his car was still parked out the back so I knew he hadn’t left for work which was strange-” she paused for a moment to catch her breath, tear now rolling down her cheeks, “Please help him, he’s my boy, I just want him to be okay-”

“Of course we’ll help. But we need to take your son to the hospital, DKA is very serious, so while we get him into the ambulance can you pack a bag for him? Anything he might need medication wise and a couple changes of clothes?” Sigurd kept his voice as calm and steady as he could, then as soon as Karol had nodded and stepped aside he let himself into the house, quickly making his way upstairs followed by Jack and Abel, then froze when he entered the bedroom, his heart jumping into his throat. 

It was Timo.

“Sigurd, breathe, okay? Don’t panic, I know you know what to do.” Jack whispered from behind him, and Sigurd swallowed thickly, pushing into the room and dropping to his knees beside where Timo lay on the bed. His mouth was slack, eyes closed, and one arm dangled limply off the bed. His breathing was shallow and he was drenched in sweat. 

“Jack… I need you to take a ketone reading please.”

Sigurd's mouth was dry as he began to give instructions to Jack, now forgetting all about Abels presence as he focused on Timo. As Jack sat on the bed on Timo’s other side and pricked his finger, taking a reading of his blood, Sigurd drew a syringe of insulin and held it ready as he waited for Jack to give him a reading.

The ketone machine beeped, and Jack held the small LED screen out to Sigurd. 

“3.7 mmol.” he confirmed, and Sigurd felt his hairs stand on end at such a dangerously high reading. He held his breath as he found a vein in the crook of Timo’s arm and released the entire syringe of insulin into his bloodstream.   
“As soon as we get Timo into the ambulance you’ll need to get him on an IV and monitor his ketone mmol and blood sugar levels every five minutes.” Sigurd instructed as he stood up, capping the used syringe and tossing it back into the med kit. 

“Timo? You know him?” Jack whispered, and Sigurd nodded weakly.

It took Sigurd and Jack just under five minutes to get Timo onto the stretcher, and Sigurd took charge of his head, making sure it was secured in the neck brace before guiding Jack as he went backwards down the stairs. Blood was rushing around his head as he stepped up into the back of the ambulance and laid Timo down on the bed, strapping the stretcher to the frame. Karol followed them out, locking the door to her house behind her before she climbed into the back of the ambulance, clutching Timo’s hand as she sat beside him and Jack made small talk with her while connecting Timo to an insulin IV.

Then, Sigurd caught Jack’s eye as he took hold of the doors and watched as he gave him a quick thumbs up before he was concealed behind them as they closed. 

When Sigurd got back behind the wheel, his brow was damp with sweat and he could feel the adrenaline pulsing through his body as he fastened his seatbelt and started the engine. He hardly even looked at the sat-nav on the way to the hospital, his mind on autopilot as he kept glancing in the rearview mirror that looked through the little window into the back of the ambulance, watching as Jack moved around and was careful not to turn corners too fast.

“52 incoming, casualty still unresponsive and needing immediate assistance upon arrival. Depot do you copy?” As Sigurd reached the hospital he radioed through to control, requesting for the nurses to be ready to receive Timo as soon as he pulled up, and sure enough when he came to a stop two female nurses were waiting with a wheeled bed. He wasted no time in getting out and helping Jack bring Timo out the back of the ambulance, and only once he was lifted onto the bed and in the hands of the nurses did Sigurd feel like he could finally breathe properly as he watched the double doors slam closed.

He flinched when a hand was placed on his shoulder, and when he looked up Abel was standing beside him, a proud look on his face.

“Well done, Sigurd. You might just have saved that young man’s life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhh I'm really not sure on the chapter but I guess this is a full on medical au now? I'll add more notes later cause I need to be out the door in five minutes but instead I'm updating fanfiction lmao
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> -lumassen x


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five - Slow Lane

To say that a lot of Sigurd’s time was spent in and around hospitals on a daily basis, he still wasn’t particularly fond of them.

It was a couple of minutes past 6am, and Sigurd had just got off shift, but instead of pedalling home bleary eyed to collapse into bed, he found himself drumming his fingers a little impatient over the top of the reception desk at A&E.

“Timo you say… When did he come in?” The receptionist asked, and Sigurd tried his best not to sigh heavily,

“18:48 yesterday evening.” he said, not even needing to check.

Then, he watched as her eyes wandered across the screen and she hummed in thought to herself.

At this time in the morning the hospital was quieter than usual, but the waiting room was still full and the corridors bustled with doctors and nurses. Sigurds eye followed a pair of nurses as they walked past reception and disappeared off into a ward.

“He’s awake. Nurses managed to bring him round at a couple minutes past two earlier this morning.” The receptionist spoke up after she found Timo’s notes, and Sigurd deflated a little against the desk as he let out a sigh of relief.

“That’s great. Really great, thank you.” he said, dragging a hand wearily through his hair,

“Which ward is he on?” 

The receptionist gave him a look and narrowed her eyes,

“Visiting hours aren’t until 9am, Mr Thomassen.” she reminded him pointedly, and it physically pained Sigurd to stop himself rolling his eyes at her.

“If you look at the notes you’ll see that I brought him in. He left a personal item in my vehicle, I just need to return it to him.” 

Pushing off the desk, Sigurd stood up and patted a hand against the pocket in his trousers containing his wallet and phone.

“Oh, well you can leave that with me and I’ll get one of the nurses to take it down to him when they change his IV later on.” she said, extending her hand out toward Sigurd who could feel himself growing frustrated. 

“No, I’d like to give it to him personally. Don’t worry, I’ll find the ward myself.”

The receptionist stood up quickly from her chair and called after Sigurd as he turned on his heel and stalked as confidently as he could past the front desk,

“Mr Thomassen I told you, no visitors!” she raised her voice and Sigurd grimaced as her shrill voice pierced his ears.

While still not stopping walking, Sigurd turned back around to face her and took a couple steps backwards while he pointed at the fabric patch above his breast pocket reading ‘ _Paramedic_ ’.

He didn’t say anything, and knew that she couldn’t either as he technically was a member of staff and not a visitor. He was pushing his luck, but his entire shift Sigurd hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Timo even with the added pressure of having Abel with him all shift scrutinising his every move and decision. 

While he was on his break he’d sat slumped on the couch in the crew room and stared at a photo of Timo smiling happily from his facebook page to try to push the image he now had of him to the back of his mind of how Timo had looked when he’d first stepped into his room and realised that he was the casualty.

But Timo was okay, he was awake, and so Sigurd hurried down the corridor, slowing as he passed each open doorway as he quickly looked around the room trying to spot Timo. Luckily, A&E wards were fairly straightforward as patients receiving emergency treatment weren’t yet segregated onto different wards depending on what they were in for. Sure, there were hundreds of beds, but one of them would be Timo’s.

Trying not to look as though he were lost, when Sigurd spotted a doctor heading towards him in the corridor he stood up a little taller and quickened his pace until he was just about to pass her.

“Excuse me, I’ve been sent to see to Mr Väinämöinen, Diabetic in-patient. Do you know which bed he’s in please?” he asked, and the doctor stopped for a brief moment while she turned to point further down the corridor, 

“Take a left at the next set of double doors and there’s an in-patient information desk, they can tell you.” she said, then before even waiting for Sigurd to reply she just gave him a tiny smile and a curt nod and carried on walking. 

Preparing himself for another receptionist battle, Sigurd drew in a long breath before he turned the corner. The information desk was tiny, and the young girl manning it was concealed away behind a pane of glass.

“Good Morning, can I help you?” she greeted Sigurd with a smile.

“I’ve been sent to see to a patient, Mr Väinämöinen.” he said again, then clenched his fist below the desk triumphantly when the receptionist took one look at his uniform before nodding and turning her attention to her computer.

She asked for Timo’s first name and his reason for admittance, then it took her less than a minute to find his records.

“Bed number 42, intensive care. Do you know where that is?” she said when she looked up, and Sigurd slowly shook his head,

“No problem, I can tell you.” 

Sigurd listened as she told him which doors to go through, which signs to follow, and he thanked her profusely before following her directions. Now that he knew where he was going it didn’t take him long at all to find Timo’s ward, and when he reached bed 42 he found that it was alone within a small room. 

There was a window of glass on the door, and Sigurd peered into it, his heart suddenly sinking when he caught sight of Timo on the bed in a stark white hospital gown.

His eyes were closed, his hair was damp and scraped back away from his face, and his feet were slightly elevated, sticking out from beneath the thin blanket draped across him. 

He hadn’t known Timo for very long, and didn’t really know _much_ about him, but Sigurd found that he found himself thinking about Timo on a daily basis. He’d smile when he scrolled past his posts on facebook, crane his neck to peer into the window just to catch a glimpse of his blonde head and happy face when he cycled past his salon every day, and think about what it might have been like if they did go for that coffee. He thought about what they’d talk about, how Timo would laugh so heartily that his shoulders would shake, and imagine what he’d wear. He was always dressed so nicely- 

“ _Dispatch to all available crew members, intelligence received from Stepping Hill Hospital-”_

Sigurd jumped out of his skin as his radio sounded loudly, and he scrambled to quickly silence it. He fiddled with it for a moment then unclipped it from his breast pocket and shoved it into the back pocket of his trousers. When he looked up again and peered back through the window Sigurd felt his face turn red when he found Timo looking at him from beneath heavy eyelids, his expression unreadable.

Swallowing thickly, Sigurd tucked his hair behind his ear and pushed the door open. He stood there for a moment with just his head peering around the door not wanting to intrude,

“Hi Timo. Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just… wanted to see if you’re alright.” he mumbled, and watched as Timo’s eyes wandered lazily over his face before he closed them again and lay back against the pillows,

“I must be quite the catch, huh? Of all the paramedics why did it have to be you?” Timo laughed weakly, though it wasn’t his usual light laughter that Sigurd loved to listen to and instead sounded cold and sad as it rasped from his throat.

“I can go if you want, I’m just glad you’re awake.” Sigurd offered, but his gaze was quickly met by Timo’s once again as he snapped his eyes open and sat up a little,

“No, don’t go. Sorry,” he sighed, dropping his gaze to stare at his feet, “it’s just… you found out that I have diabetes, I live with my mom _and_ that I have a gross bedroom all in one day. I hoped that it would be a while before those things came up, that’s all.” he shrugged as he looked back over again and cast Sigurd a strained smile as he entered the room fully and closed the door gently behind him.

“If it helps, I’ve seen many bedrooms in worse states than yours while on the job.” Sigurd said as he crossed the room and made his way over to Timo’s bed, and thankfully Timo cracked a small smile at his teasing. 

Timo was connected to at least three IV’s drawing various fluids into his body, and the room was cloaked heavily in the clinically sweet, metallic smell of insulin. It was strange for Sigurd to see Timo like this, usually so bubbly and smartly presented, now looking exhausted with unkempt hair and tired eyes. 

Relieved to be finally sitting down after 12 hours on his feet, Sigurd took a seat in the empty chair beside Timo’s bed and slumped back in it. The room fell quiet, and only the sound of Timo’s heart monitor could be heard as it beeped every now and again. 

“So…” Sigurd said after a while, twiddling his thumbs in his lap, “I’m guessing, y’know, that you knew you had diabetes?” 

Timo scoffed and lay back to stare at the ceiling,

“Of course I did. But I just thought if I pretended for long enough that I didn’t then I could believe it. Silly, right?”

Sigurd sat forward and brought his elbows to rest on his knees, 

“Look, if you’re afraid of needles or you’re worried that taking care of diabetes is hard then I know a programme that might help.” he suggested, but then he blinked a little in confusion when Timo laughed again and rolled onto his side so that he was lying facing Sigurd.

“I’m not scared of needles, how else do you think I look this good?” he said with a slight eye roll, though when Sigurd still looked puzzled he brought his hand out from under the blanket and pointed to his face,

“Botox, lip fillers, a nose job? Come on, you didn’t think I was this handsome _naturally_ , did you?” Timo finished with a wink, his personality returning for a moment as he lay and looked at Sigurd. 

It hadn’t even occurred to him that Timo had had work done, and for some reason the thought of it made Sigurd a little sad as he nodded his head and watched as Timo turned pink. 

“Oh. Well, I um,” he laughed nervously and tucked his hand back under the blanket then pulled it up to his chin, “Anyway, the needles and injections aren’t a problem, _I’m_ the problem. I try to stay on top of it, but I just can’t. I want to be normal and have popcorn and soda at the movies, or go out on a date to a nice restaurant without having to worry about calculating insulin bolus and not knowing how many carbs are in my food. Besides, it’s embarrassing having to run to the bathroom every time when I need to inject.” 

By the time he’d finished speaking, Timo’s chest was heaving and he’d broke out into a sweat, his body still clearly fatigued. He averted his gaze for a moment while he wiped his brow on the back of his arm and sighed heavily,

“I’m too scared to hypo so I just let my blood sugars run high. I never monitored them, and I just ignored everything. I can’t stand to think about the fact that I ruined my life for myself and I’m reminded about it every day. I’m sorry, this is probably annoying for you and such a turn off.”

Timo laughed cynically once more and gave Sigurd a weak smile that was still warm and bright even despite his sadness. 

“What do you mean you ruined your life? None of this is your fault, Timo.” Sigurd tried his best to sound reassuring through his own exhaustion. 

For a moment Timo just looked at him, his eyes searching Sigurds, and Sigurd could see uncertainty within them. Then, with a small exhale he rolled onto his back and fumbled for his phone that was on the plastic trolley beside the hospital bed. 

Sitting up a little, Timo turned his attention to his phone as the screen illuminated his face and Sigurd watched as his finger quickly scrolled across the screen as he looked for something.

“If I show you this photo you have to promise not to laugh.” he said as he stopped scrolling and tiled his phone away from Sigurd and held it close to his chest protectively. His eyes were a little glassy and his mouth was twisted into a frown.

Though he was shocked that Timo was confiding in him, Sigurd nodded nonetheless.

“I promise.” he said, then reached out and took Timo’s phone from him as he handed it to him.

On the screen there was a picture of a much younger Liz and Eduard, and in the middle of them was Timo, though he was almost unrecognisable. 

“That’s not even me at my biggest. I was unhealthy and I knew it, but I didn’t care enough to do anything about it, I suppose. I was probably 300 pounds in that photo.”

Sigurd looked between the photo on the screen and Timo as he sat on the bed and anxiously chewed on a piece of loose skin around his fingernail. 

Despite the significant weight difference, the bigger nose and different hair, the Timo in the photo looking back at Sigurd still had the same bright eyes and wonderful smile, and the fact that Timo was prepared for Sigurd to laugh at the photo because of his size and the way that he looked made his heart sink.

“Well, I still mean what I said about it being impossible for you to look dumpy with brown hair. Now I have my proof.” Sigurd said with a small smile as he handed Timo his phone back.

He took it and clasped it to his chest as his bottom lip trembled ever so slightly before a smile spread across his face and he waved his other hand in dismissal,

“You’re just being nice. But thank you.”

Timo’s voice cracked a little as he wiped at the corner of his eye with his thumb,

“I mean it. Thank you. I know it’s your job, but I’d never felt so ill in my life. I was lying there, and it was like I couldn’t move. I thought that I was going to die and I-“

Sigurd stopped Timo before he could get worked up by placing his hand over his,

“It’s okay, Timo.” He said, giving his hand a little squeeze before letting go again.

Sigurd never really had been very good at expressing feelings and emotions on the outside, but he felt them deeply within. He always had done, which is why he chose to be a paramedic to be able to help people.

As Timo nodded wearily, he lay back down again and got comfortable, and Sigurd sat back in the chair and undid his top button of his uniform that was becoming restricting.

“Besides, I have you to thank too.” He grinned, and Timo’s eyes widened as he blinked a few times in confusion,

“I had a delivery this morning- wait no, _yesterday_ morning-“

“Oh my gosh, you got it?” Timo gasped as though he’d suddenly remembered about the bike,

“Is it okay? Do you like it?”

“No. I hate it.” Sigurd teased and watched how Timo’s face drew into a childish pout.

“Oh ha, ha. Very funny.” He shot Sigurd a quick glare, “Look it was the least I could do, but if your original bike didn’t get stolen then maybe we wouldn’t be friends, so it was worth it.”

Timo said a little quieter as he stifled a yawn.

At this, Sigurd felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he stood up and stretched,

“Oh, so we’re friends now?” he said casually, and Timo propped himself up on his elbows to look up at him,

“You’ve got me on facebook, I bought you an expensive bike, you’ve just seen the worst photo of me that exists, and you _literally_ just saved my life, so I’d say we are.”

Timo counted his reasons on his hand and then waved four fingers at Sigurd with a big smile on his face, though he was quickly becoming drowsy as his eyes grew visibly heavy.

“Well it sounds like I don’t have a choice in the matter, so I guess we’re friends.” Sigurd shrugged, and laughed as Timo nodded triumphantly.

\---------------------

Over the next week, Sigurd chatted daily with Timo between his work, listening to his woes of life in intensive care over text message. How his feet had swollen as a result of his fluid drip, how the wifi wasn't fast enough for him to watch youtube on his ipad, and how he swore he saw a grey hair in the mirror but now can’t find it again to pull it out.

Timo had quickly become the first person that Sigurd would text when he woke up, and the last person he would text before he went to sleep. He was also the first person that Sigurd had told when he passed his assessment.

“Sigurd, that’s amazing! I mean, I’m sorry that I ended up being a part of it for you, but if you hadn’t passed it meant that I could go down there and give them a piece of my mind.” Timo cried down the phone, and Sigurd smiled from ear to ear at his enthusiasm in his voice as he sat on his own bed, the official letter confirming his employment as a fully qualified paramedic in his hand.

“Thank you, I’m sure you would have.” Sigurd said, fondly.

Since Sigurd had visited Timo in the hospital, he hadn’t mentioned anything about his diabetes, respecting the fact that Timo was clearly reluctant to address it, let alone talk about it.

“While we’re on the topic, how are you feeling?” he asked gingerly, and listened as the phone line went quiet and Timo sighed on the other end,

“Okay, I guess. I’m getting discharged in two days now that my sugars are back down. I need to sort myself out, and I will do, I’m just not sure where to begin.”

Sigurd could hear the uncertainty in Timo’s tone, and could picture the expression on his face in his mind.

Putting the letter down and lying back on the bed, Sigurd switched the phone to his other ear and cast his gaze out of the window,

“Well, it’s a good job you have a paramedic for a friend, right? I have a few things that I can suggest to help, but only if you want them.”

Timo paused again, and Sigurd screwed his eyes shut, fearing he’d over stepped until Timo’s voice came through the phone once more,

“Why don’t you finally take me on that date and I might let you discuss it with me.”

Sigurd thought for a moment and ignored his face turning bright red as best he could,

“Well, I think we’re a little past an innocent coffee date now. How about a movie?” he mused, trying to keep his tone as casual as he could,

“Only if there’s still popcorn and soda. I need you on my side with this.” Timo said, and Sigurd shook his head to himself, though he was still smiling.

“There will be popcorn and soda.” He confirmed, and could have sworn that he heard a gleeful little noise coming from Timo’s phone as the line suddenly muffled. Then, when it returned to normal Timo cleared his throat.

“Great, then it’s a date. I’ll pick the movie seeing as though I have nothing better to do at the moment. Text me your shifts and I’ll plan it. Okay?”

Sigurd ran his hand through his hair and exhaled sharply, suddenly more nervous at the thought of a movie date than any grown adult should be as he nodded before scrambling to reply as he realised that Timo obviously couldn’t see him nodding.

“Oh, uh yeah, that’s great. Works for me. I’ll see you then.” He said, and then the sound of Timo’s laugher muffling through the phone sent his heart beating a little faster,

“See you then!” Timo repeated, and he and Sigurd exchanged slightly awkward goodbyes before hanging up.

As soon as Timo had gone, Sigurd tossed his phone beside him on the bed and pressed both of his hands over his face.

_A date._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhh I'm not sure if this chapter came across how I quite wanted it to, but oh well here we are :')
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading, and sorry that it's been a little while since we last visted this fic! I really love these two a lot, and this fic ended up being super cheesy pls forgive me.
> 
> See you all next chapter!
> 
> -lumassen x


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six - Popcorn and Soda

“You’re wearing  _ that _ ?” 

Sigurd glanced down quickly at his t-shirt and jeans before returning to look at the pixelated image of Natalya’s face on his phone,

“Yes?” he replied, a brow raised and a scowl forming across his lips as he watched her shake her head and flip her hair over her shoulder with her free hand,

“Sig, you’re going on a date. A  _ first _ date. Come on, show me what else you have.” Natalya commanded, and Sigurd found himself obeying her as he sighed and turned to walk back into his bedroom.

He took a moment to set his phone on the dresser and propped it up with a bottle of moisturizer so that Natalya could still see him, then opened his wardrobe. 

“We’re going to be sitting in the dark, Nat. We’re only seeing a movie.” 

Sigurd called across the room as he leafed through the clothes hung on the rail,

“Yes, but it still matters what you wear. Sigurd, the guy drives a Porsche.” Natalya deadpanned, and Sigurd knew the expression that would be plastered on her face without even turning to look at his phone.

“Fine, whatever. How about this?”

Pulling out a white shirt, Sigurd held it up on his hanger toward Natalya,

“Nope, boring.”

The shirt was tossed onto the bed.

“What about this?”

A black turtleneck sweater,

“Do you want to look like you’re going to a funeral?”

Growing a little irritated, Sigurd shoved the sweater back into the wardrobe then his hands found his hips as he stood and shot Natalya a look through the camera.

“Timo wears nothing but black and dark colours and he always looks nice.” He said, then watched as Natalya rolled her eyes,

“Fine, wear the turtleneck, but change into some blue jeans instead of grey.” Natalya compromised after a short pause, and Sigurd exhaled sharply, causing a loose curl hanging in his eyes to blow up and out of his face as he pulled the sweater back out.

“And put a condom in the back pocket while you’re at it.” She added, and Sigurd quickly crossed the room and snatched up his phone,

“I’m ending the call now.” He threatened, hating how red his face had turned when he caught sight of the little image of himself on the screen.

“Sorry, Sig. I don’t mean to tease, I just can’t help it with you.”

There was a fondness to her voice, and Sigurd knew that she meant no harm, but there was still no way in hell he was taking a condom to a first date, no matter how attractive Timo was-

“I’m pleased for you, so let me know how it goes, okay?”

Giving Sigurd a rare smile, Natalya sent a flurry of red emoji hearts across the screen.

“Thanks Nat, I will. You working on Sunday?”

“Of course I am, when am I  _ not _ working?”

“Well I’ll fill you in then.”

“Go get ‘em tiger, have fun.”

The video call ended, and Sigurd sank down onto the bed and placed his phone next to him.

He sat for a moment and looked at himself in the mirror on top of the dresser opposite and ran a hand through his curls then over his undercut. It was getting long now and needed cutting back in, but Sigurd didn’t want anyone but Timo to do it for him.

It had been a week since Timo had been discharged from the hospital, but he hadn’t returned to work yet, and so consequently Sigurd’s appointment had been cancelled. They’d continued to text every day, and Sigurd had started to notice how quickly Timo would respond to his every message, and how sometimes hours would pass like minutes while they talked. On a couple of occasions Sigurd had gotten comfortable on the couch after a day shift and by the time he looked up from his phone the sky outside had gone dark without him even realising.

Flopping backward on the bed, Sigurd winced as the plastic hanger on the discarded white shirt dug into his back. He was nervous, his stomach a cage of butterflies, but he also hadn’t looked forward to something like this in years.

Sitting up quickly before he had time to dwell on any anxious thoughts, Sigurd climbed off the bed and pulled his t-shirt off, letting it fall into a heap on the floor then slipped the turtleneck on. Then, peering into the full-length mirror on the other side of the wardrobe door, Sigurd gave himself a once over and decided to leave his grey jeans on. Dark colours were more Timo’s style, and no matter what Natalya said at the end of the day Sigurd wanted to impress him, so black and grey it was.

After dragging a brush through his hair and splashing a little cologne on his neck, Sigurd picked his phone up and lit up the lock screen to look at the time. 6:52pm, Timo would be here any minute.

The butterflies in Sigurd’s stomach grew as he headed downstairs and began to put his shoes on, his fingers trembling a little as he tied the laces. Then, once his jacket was on, phone and wallet were in his pocket, Sigurd stood by the front door and peered through the spyhole on the front door as he popped a breath mint into his mouth and waited for the bright headlights of Timo’s car to pull up into the driveway.

He wasn’t waiting for long, and soon heard Timo’s car approaching before he saw it. Once Timo was on the driveway, Sigurd felt his phone in his back pocket vibrate.

_ SMS from Timo: I’m outside xx _

Not wanting to seem too eager, Sigurd put his phone away and stood in the hallway for a minute or so before grabbing his keys from the hook on the wall and stepping outside.

The air outside was cold, and a gust of wind blew Sigurd’s hair messily across his face as he opened the passenger door and slid into Timo’s car.

“Wow, that’s a good look, Siggy. Windswept, I like it.” Timo teased, and Sigurd shot him an unamused look from beneath messy curls as he pushed them out of his face and tucked what he could out of the way behind his ears.

“Ha Ha, very funny.”

Timo’s laughter was light, and Sigurd couldn’t help but think how much nicer it was to hear it in person instead of through the phone as he looked over at him. Just as Sigurd had thought, Timo was dressed head to toe in black, his polo shirt smartly buttoned up to the collar and was tucked into a pair of expensive looking wool slacks. His hair was bright blonde in contrast, freshly dyed and neatly styled, and Sigurd didn’t miss that the plump of Timo’s lips were now even more pronounced since the last time he’d seen him.

“You look nice.” He said, then watched as Timo’s eyes creased when a wide smile spread across his face,

“Thank you, so do you.”

The air between them was slightly awkward as a silence fell over the car, and Sigurd discreetly wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans,

“You got everything? Ready to go?” Timo asked, his finger drumming a pattern across the steering wheel, then when Sigurd nodded, he smiled again and turned to look over his shoulder as he backed the car out of the driveway.

“So you’re still not going to tell me which movie we’re seeing?” Sigurd said once Timo had pulled out of his street and onto the main road,

“Nope! But I know you’ll like it based on what you told me your three favourite movies were. I’m pretty good with these things.” Timo gave Sigurd a glance and pulled his shoulders back confidently as he put his foot down on the gas. 

“I didn’t know that a movie existed where Marty McFly gets lost on his way to moving to a new house and ends up trying to save his parents from being turned into pigs and there just so happens to also be a wild feral man who walks on his knuckles for some reason.”

Now it was Sigurd’s turn to tease and he watched Timo’s mouth gape a little as he scrambled to think of a quick response,

“Well I still can’t believe that your favourite Disney movie is Tarzan. Like,  _ really _ , Sigurd? Of all the movies? Though I suppose Tarzan  _ is _ kinda hot.” Timo mused, taking one hand off the wheel to tap a finger to his chin in mock contemplation. 

Sigurd sighed dramatically and slumped in his seat, “Sorry I mustn’t be your type then. I think we should turn the car around and call this date off.” he joked, and Timo shook his head,

“Oh don’t worry, you’re definitely my type.” he said without taking his eyes off the road, and Sigurd was glad as he felt his face turning pink for the second time already that evening. 

They continued to freely chat as they drove to the cinema, and by the time Timo found a parking space and killed the engine Sigurd didn’t know why he’d been so nervous.

“Do we have to pay for parking?” Timo muttered to himself as he got out of the car and stood on his tiptoes to peer around the car park,

“Um, I don’t think so? I think parking is usually free on a complex, right?” Sigurd did the same, craning his neck to look around but stopped when Timo shrugged and the light flashed once on the car as he locked it, taking Sigurd’s word. 

Walking around the car, Timo stopped in front of Sigurd and spent a moment putting his car keys into a small brown leather rucksack then slipped it on.

In a comfortable silence, Sigurd and Timo crossed the car park and once at the cinema Sigurd stepped forward to pull the door open and hold it for Timo as he ducked inside. 

The outdated patterned carpet was instantly sticky underfoot, and the air was stuffy and sickly sweet with the smell of popcorn. It had been a while since Sigurd had gone on a movie date, and part of him felt like he was a teen again as he followed his date over to the concession. 

“So I know I said popcorn and soda was still a must, but um,” Timo lowered his voice and glanced up at Sigurd a little apprehensively, “I think we should share. Y’know, just because the sugar-”

“That’s fine with me. You get what you want though still, I’m good with anything.” Sigurd politely cut Timo off before he could unnecessarily explain himself, and gave him a small smile as he watched him let out a breath and relax a little as he turned to the server behind the counter.

He stood and waited while Timo ordered their snacks, settling for orange soda and a large sweet and salted popcorn after a little too much deliberation, then held them while Timo pulled his wallet out and insisted that he pay. Not wanting to make a show in front of the server, Sigurd agreed although reluctantly. 

“And what movie will you be seeing?” the server asked, and Timo grinned as he glanced at Sigurd,

“Two tickets for  _ The Witches _ please,” he said, then a brief look of uncertainty crossed his face as he waited for a reaction from Sigurd,

“Good choice, you do know my movie tastes after all.” Sigurd nodded, pleasantly surprised at Timo’s choice and correct assumption that he wasn’t a romance or action movie kind of guy. 

“The next showing isn’t until 8:40pm, sir.” the server said, and Timo quickly turned to look at them,

“Are you sure? I thought there was one at 7:15. I’m sure that the website said-” Timo pulled his phone from his back pocket and Sigurd watched as he unlocked it and his thumbs flew across the screen as he pulled up the showtimes on the cinema’s website, “-oh.”

A mumbled string of words in a language that Sigurd didn’t understand left Timo’s lips as he scraped a hand through his hair and his gaze met with Sigurd’s,

“So I looked at tomorrow's showings by accident, I’m so sorry. Is there anything else you wanted to see?” 

Timo was flustered and apologetic as he wrung his hands, and Sigurd bit his lip as he looked up at the board of showtimes on the wall behind the server. The only movies that were showing in the next hour were all horror movies, and Sigurd didn’t really feel like embarrassing himself in front of Timo by covering his eyes during any gory scenes or jumping in fright at any jump scares,

“Um, not really,” he admitted, and Timo closed his eyes for a moment as he drew in a breath and turned back to the server,

“I’ll still pay for the snacks of course, but forget the movie,” he laughed awkwardly and avoided Sigurds eye as he put his credit card into the machine and paid, “silly me, what an idiot.”

Then, as Timo was putting his card back into his wallet Sigurd’s gaze wandered over to the flashing neon signs above the arcades,

“Hey Timo, think you could beat me at air hockey?” he said with a smirk, and watched as Timo’s face lit up,

“Of course I can. I’m a Finn, I could beat you at  _ any _ kind of hockey. Why, are you challenging me?” Timo puffed his chest out proudly, and Sigurd nodded toward the arcade,

“I might be.” 

With a shrug, Sigurd stepped past Timo and casually made his way over to the air hockey machine, placing the drink and box of popcorn down on top of it while he got his wallet out.

“Are you sure? Look I’m sorry about the movie, if you want to go home I can drive you no problem…” Timo fidgeted with a button on his polo shirt, though there was still a hopeful look on his face.

Sigurd felt a warm flush run over his skin as he nodded and realised that he’d much rather play silly arcade games with Timo anyway than sit in a darkened room with him in silence. This way he could hear him laugh, see him smile, and maybe even be the reason for that smile.

“Course I’m sure. Now are we gonna play or what?” 

Taking his rucksack off, Timo dropped it to the floor and kicked it under the air hockey table then took a handful of popcorn and shoved it in his mouth. Sigurd didn’t need any verbal confirmation, and so he took his jacket off and tied it around his waist. As he got some change out of his wallet and slotted it into the machine, Timo moved the popcorn and soda and placed them on top of a claw machine game beside him out of the way just in time.

The machine blew air out from the table, and the puck appeared in the slot on Sigurd’s side of the table.

“Ready?” he poised it over the table, and Timo planted his feet firmly on the carpet and nodded.

Then, with vigour, Sigurd dropped the puck onto the table and slammed the paddle against it, sending it flying across the table. Timo was quick to react and leaned across the table to send it back toward Sigurd. The puck bounced off the sides and clinked around the table, and Sigurd put up a good fight but soon Timo had scored the first goal. 

His face beneath the pink neon lights was smug as he continued to score, the game quickly becoming 5 to 0 until Sigurd managed to slam a goal in,

“Finally, I was starting to get a little bored!” Timo mocked, quickly pausing the game to take a sip of soda and another handful of popcorn while he had the puck, and Sigurd rolled his eyes,

“Stop bragging and just beat me already then so I can let you win- wait, I mean, accept my defeat.” Sigurd said, and Timo narrowed his eyes, unsure if Sigurd was being serious or not, before placing the puck back onto the table and slamming a goal in straight away, taking Sigurd by surprise by the sheer force of it,

“Jesus Christ, Timo,” he laughed as he all but flinched out of the way, and Timo flipped his hair out of his face with the jerk of his head, 

“I’m not just a pretty face.” he said, though his smile was wide.

The first game finished 7 to 2, and by the time they’d played a best of three that Timo won two of the pair of them were breathless and a little sweaty, the popcorn bucket nearly empty and the soda was nothing but the remains of melted ice. 

Collapsing into an empty booth, Timo wiped away the fine hair that was sticking to his brow and dropped his bag onto the table between them. 

“That was fun, Sig, thank you!” he beamed, and Sigurd felt a warmth in his chest,

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you hadn’t won.” 

Chin in palm, Sigurd watched as Timo took out a small blue pouch from his bag and set it onto the table,

“No, I would, I promise. This is really nice.” Timo said, and Sigurd wondered if his cheeks were pink not just as a result of tiring himself out.

Then, Timo dropped his gaze and instead began to turn the box of popcorn on the table as he peered at it, and his face drew into a frown.

Sigurd was quiet while Timo unzipped the pouch and took out a glucose testing meter and wasn’t sure if it would make Timo feel better if he didn’t pay any attention, but was also worried that it would seem like he didn’t care. 

He settled for gazing out across the arcade as he listened to the beep of the machine and the sound of the click of the needle as Timo pricked his finger to take a reading of his blood sugar.

“Um, Sigurd, I know this isn’t very romantic, but do you know how I’d work out what to inject without any nutritional information?”

Timo’s voice was low, and when Sigurd looked at him he had his pinky finger between his lips, no doubt the one that he’d pricked, and his meter lay face up on the table, a high reading of 17.3 displayed on the screen, no doubt caused mostly by the sugary drink.

Suddenly the air of confidence that had surrounded Timo all evening had vanished, and he nibbled on the skin at the tip of his finger,

Sigurd sat up and blinked, quickly switching his mind to work mode as he tried to think of what to suggest,

“Well, I don’t think you can, so all you can really do is correct based on your reading.” he said, keeping his tone light, but Timo still slumped further in his seat,

“But what if I give too much insulin? I don’t want to be too low.” he mumbled, looking between Sigurd and the meter on the table. 

Then just as Sigurd drew in a breath and was about to reply, Timo picked up the meter and put it back into the pouch and shook his head,

“It doesn’t matter, 17 isn’t too bad, I’ll just sort it out when I get home.” he said, then gave Sigurd a smile and dropped the pouch back into his bag. 

It took a little effort for Sigurd to not advise Timo that that wasn’t really a good idea, but he pursed his lips and left him to it, wanting to be just his date and nothing more. He would just text him and remind him later.

“Now that I’ve caught my breath, do you want to play something else? Are you any good at basketball?”

The cheerful lilt had returned to Timo’s voice as he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb to a hoop scoring game behind him.

Sigurd shook his head, and instead gestured to the driving simulators,

“No, but I can drive.”

At his suggestion, Timo placed his hands flat on the table and stood up,

“Wait, remind me again which of the two of us drives a Porsche and which one rides a bicycle?” he drawled, and Sigurd quickly began to notice that Timo was extremely competitive. Not that he couldn’t be too.

“Timo, I drive a 4 tonne ambulance at speed while guiding through traffic. I think I have this one in the bag.” he said with a wink, cringing internally at himself, but found that when he was around Timo he couldn’t care less.

“We’ll see about that.”

\-------------------

By the time Sigurd and Timo stepped out into the night, the cool air sending the hairs on their bare arms upright, it was nearing midnight. 

“I think you should take the keys to my car and just take it away from me, I don’t deserve it anymore.” Timo whined as he trudged over to it.

He’d suffered a crushing defeat when Sigurd had beaten him at all three races, so to make sure that the date didn’t end up spoiled by competition, they then spent the rest of the night trying to win a cheap glittery keychain from a penny machine while disappearing into their own world, talking about their lives and sharing stories. The night had been so easy, so simple, and Sigurd found that as they reached the car and he knew the night would soon be over he couldn’t help but feel a little sad. 

“Well now’s your chance to redeem yourself, so perhaps I should leave the keys with you a little longer.” Sigurd said, then opened the door to the passenger side and got in.

“Be careful what you say, because it sounds like you’re asking me to drive you home at 75 miles an hour.”

Luckily for Sigurd, Timo hadn’t taken the car above 40, though he did like to rev the engine whenever they were stopped at a red light. 

It was clear that both of them were apprehensive for the night to end as the conversation that had been flowing so easily between them all evening had suddenly dried up as Timo pulled up onto Sigurd’s driveway. 

“So, this is you then.” Timo said lightly, then unbuckled his seatbelt but left the engine running, “I’ll walk you to your door?”

Gathering his jacket from the footwell, Sigurd nodded with a small smile and got out of the car.

His house was in darkness as he approached it, and the porch light blinked to life as he reached the door. He could feel Timo lingering a little awkwardly behind him, and Sigurd felt the butterflies return. 

“Sorry again about the movie, but I hope you had fun anyway. I know I did.” Timo said a little bashfully, his cheeks pink even under the shadows from the dim light.

Turning so that his back was to his front door, Sigurd tucked his hair behind his ear and gave Timo a shy smile,

“I think I would have preferred tonight over a movie anyway. I had fun too.”

At this, Timo’s face turned a deeper shade of pink as he took a small step forward into the pool of light from the porch lamp.

“So do you, um, want to do something again some time?”

Sigurd nodded and ran his hand through his hair, and a small laugh broke from his chest,

“Well, I still have one free haircut left.”

Timo laughed too, though a little awkwardly, and Sigurd felt a panic wash over him as he worried he hadn’t said the right thing,

“Ha, yeah, well about that. I’m happy to give you a haircut whenever you need them, always free too don’t worry about that, y’know, cause we’re, um, because this is- well I don’t think it would be fair to-” 

With a sigh, Timo cut himself off and cast his eyes to the ground for a moment before they found Sigurd’s again,

“Can we do this again? Would you like to?” 

Sigurd felt a warmth well in his chest even despite the chill from the night air as he nodded and then watched as Timo took another step forward,

Then, just like the first time he’d met Timo, he was close enough to him to smell his cologne once more, then closer still as he felt the warm of his hand across the back of his neck until they were as close as could be, and Timo’s soft lips met his own for the briefest of kisses. 

When he pulled back, Timo’s eyes were wide as they searched Sigurds that were just inches away, looking for any sign that he didn’t want this, but when he found none and Sigurd closed his eyes to lean in once more, he left a longer, more tender kiss this time as their fingers laced. 

It felt as though Sigurd’s insides were fizzing as he gently let go and stepped back, and Timo stood before him with what could only be described as a triumphant expression on his bright red face.

“Yes, I’d like that very much.” Sigurd finally answered Timo’s question, his voice coming out only little more than a whisper, and Timo stepped forward to leave one last kiss before turning to leave, the engine of his car still loudly running,

“I’ll text you?” he said, and Sigurd just nodded as he watched him get into his car with one last bashful glance, leaving him standing on the doorstep clutching his jacket and his house keys, the silly plastic glittery keychain in the shape of a heart now a souvenir of a very successful first date. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its 4:41 am goonight


End file.
